


Those Who Fall in Love Like Anchors Dropped Upon the Ocean Floor

by beezylbub



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Eventual Smut, Fuckboy, IT Big Bang 2018, M/M, Mutual Pining, eventual car accident, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 05:51:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 21,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15018041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beezylbub/pseuds/beezylbub
Summary: Bill has quite a reputation around campus. He also just happens to live next to Stanley's dorm, and to add onto that, happens to find interest in Stan, for reasons unknown to the latter. But Stan doesn’t exactly appreciate the obnoxious persona that Bill wears as a facade— he wants to know the real Bill. But that’s a task that proves harder than he originally thought. He needs the help his friends (and an anchor, who he calls Georgie Denbrough) before he can reach the bottom of the enigma named Bill Denbrough.(aka Bill is a fuckboy who uses Georgie to spend time with Stan because he knows that nobody can resist his adorable little brother)





	1. October 14 - 160 Days Before the Accident

Stanley is miserable. He likes listening to music in the shower as much as the next, but blaring _My Chemical Romance_ at seven in the morning is fucking atrocious. Stanley wakes up at six-thirty every morning, so it doesn’t exactly wake him up, but the pipes scream and bang in the wall between them whenever Bill takes a shower anyway, and, while Gerard Way does have a nice voice, hearing the Black Parade every morning while he eats his cereal, reminds Stanley of a time he’d rather not remember, thank you very much.

It’s not just that, either— Bill is known around campus. He’s the baseball captain (a title Stanley was dreaming of, until he decided to focus more on academics during his college years), and that, coupled with his notorious party lifestyle, has earned him a quite notable reputation. It’s the millennial douchebags like Bill Denbrough who seem to walk all over the nobodies like Stanley (although if you ask Richie, Richie would argue that Stanley is not a _nobody_ , but rather a _loser_ , which he thinks is an improvement because hey, at least you’re somebody).

And Stanley has _tried_ , okay? It’s Bill’s fault for being so careless. He goes to campus parties (on Tuesday nights— who does that?) and has the audacity to try and get into Stan’s dormroom, mistaking it for his own. So he has to crawl out of bed at two in the morning and open the door; when he does this, Bill only laughs— he doesn’t even have the decency to apologize, that fiend— and stumble back to his dorm (not before making a poor attempt at seducing Stanley with a cliched pick up line, while adjusting his lopsided snapback).

Look, hate is a strong word, but it’s also a word that Stan thinks adequately describes his feelings for his neighbor. Richie often points out that a), hate is a strong word, and b) as far as roommates go, Bill’s a fine guy, but Stan always tells him that he’ll believe it when Bill stops blaring _Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge_ in his dorm (of course Richie wouldn’t mind— he still likes that sort of music too). And Stan’s roommate, Eddie, only sides with Richie because with his hours as a campus nurse, he’s too exhausted to wake up from any of Bill’s disturbances. That, and he’s been after Richie since he first heard Richie DJ with Beverly Marsh on the campus radio.

 

It happens on a Saturday in October. Stanley remembers that because his classes had just began to increase their workload and professors finished gauging the determination of their students after a month of introduction (but when studying for a double major in Accounting and Business Administration, in an advanced Calculus course, can he really afford to be anything but determined?). Eddie’s shift keeps him busy until four, and he and Stan have plans to get dinner at a dinky Chinese restaurant— their weekly tradition. Stanley sits on their couch and reads a book, occasionally stopping to admire the view of the changing leaves from the window next to him. The clouds above hold the possibility of rain, but in Derry, Maine, rain isn’t uncommon, and the weatherman predicted several inches throughout the day while Stanley ate breakfast.

There is a knock on the door.

When Stanley opens the door, he is met with nothing but the mustardy wall across from his dorm. Then he looks down.

“Hello, mister.”

It’s a kid. Stan doesn’t like children, he thinks they’re loud and dirty, but he stares at the kid and the kid stares right back. It almost scares him, how calm he is, and Stan wonders how he’s somehow travelled into this eerie _The Shining_ situation— Stan wants to ask where the other Grady twin went, but instead he just clears his throat and speaks. “Hello?”

“Hiya.” Says the kid. “Do you know where my brother’s room is?”

Stan frowns. “No. Are you lost?”

The kid nods. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t seem scared, like Stan would be if he were in the kid’s shoes. “Are you scared?”

“Not really. My brother taught me how to be brave. Can I use your cellphone? I know his phone number.”

“Yeah, of course,” Stan slides the door open more. “Come on in.”

 

Stanley soon learns that the boy’s name is George, but he insists on being called Georgie. He’s very polite, takes off his shoes and leaves them on the small doormat next to the coat rack without being asked to, and he sits on the small sofa in their living room and thanks Stan when he holds out his phone.

“How old are you again?”

“I’m seven.” Georgie says, plugging in the numbers on the phone.

“Ah, right.” Stanley tries to think about the kind of things he enjoyed when he was seven. “Do you like games?” He blurts out.

“They’re okay. I don’t have many friends to play games with, though.” Georgie shrugs, looking at him again with those big brown eyes. “My brother and I play games a lot, though. He’s my best friend.”

“What’s your brother’s name?”

Georgie holds a finger up as brings the phone to his ear. There’s a quiet, but comfortable pause in the dorm; Stanley goes back to looking out the window, not wanting to eavesdrop. Soon, Georgie frowns into the cellphone and hands it back to Stanley. “He didn’t answer. Thanks anyway.” He says, and stands up. “Richie’s probably looking for me now.”

“Richie Tozier?”

“Huh?” Georgie spins around. “You know Richie?”

“Yeah, we’ve been friends since— since I was your age.”

“Wow, that’s a long time,” Georgie comments.

“It wasn’t that long,” Stan huffs, but dials Richie’s number. “How do you know him?”

“He and my brother are friends, too. Maybe you know my brother.”

“Maybe,” Stan nods.

“Richie and I went to eat lunch together, because my brother was working out. But I got distracted by a bird outside of this building, Richie must have gone up to the room without me.”

“Yeah, Richie’s kind of a forgetful person— do you like birds?”

Georgie nods. “It made me sad, to see that bird outside, because it looks like it’s going to rain.”

“Well, a lot of birds in Maine like to fly in the rain. They’ve adapted to the environment.”

“Adapted to the environment,” Georgie repeats. “Do you like birds, Stan?”

He nods again. “Yes, I love birds. I think they’re really neat.”

Georgie snorts, scrunches up his nose with a fake tone of disgust. “That’s kind of lame— Just kidding. I think birds are neat too.” He says, and they both grin.

Stan dials Richie’s number, but after a few moments, frowns as he’s met with Richie’s voicemail. “Hey, Richie, it’s Stan. I have your friend Georgie here with me in my dorm— he’s going to help me with an assignment for class—” Georgie makes a noise of dislike, but Stan continues in a stern voice,“for Home Ec, I have to bake cookies, and he’s going to help me out and be my taste tester—” He breaks his facade and winks at Georgie, who grins; it’s a lie, he doesn’t have a Home Ec class, but Eddie bought ingredients for cookies the other day and Eddie doesn’t exactly have much time to make them anymore, and what kind of monster would let an opportunity like that go to waste? “So why don’t you give me a call back when you can? Thanks.”

Stanley puts the phone in his pocket and heads towards his room, grabbing an apron and a hair tie. Pulling his hair together and tying it in a neat ponytail at the back of his head, he nods towards the kitchen. “Are you ready to help me make some cookies?” He asks.

Georgie laughs and nods, jumping off the couch and running towards the small room.

 

Georgie helps break the eggs and mix the ingredients, while Stan measures them out. He also has to stop Georgie from eating the raw dough, which he warns will make Georgie sick, but Georgie manages to distract him by asking about the types of birds on his apron.

“They’re Bohemian Waxwings. These birds are native to Maine, and they’re some of my favorites because of their coloring.” He says, looking down at the apron around his torso. “My parents got this for me for Hannukah a few years ago— I’m Jewish, did you know that?” He asks, finally looking up. “But I’m not orthodox so I can— _hey_.”

Georgie pulls the spoon out of his mouth and tosses it into their dirty dish pile. “Oops, sorry Stan,” He smiles sheepishly.

Stan’s disapproving frown quickly dissolves into a smile as he sees Georgie innocently swipe a chocolate chip from the batter, but the smile is replaced at an ever quicker speed once he hears the rumbles of emo anthems start in the room adjacent to his. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me—” He groans, before carefully placing spoonfuls of batter onto a neatly lined baking tray. “Sorry, my neighbor is a jackass. I mean—”

“You swore!” Georgie laughs, pointing at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell my brother if you don’t tell him that I ate raw cookie dough.”

Stan pauses, putting the tray in the oven. “Deal. I’m sorry about the bad music, though.”

“It’s okay, my brother likes this kind of music.”

“Your brother seems like quite the character.” Stan muses, crossing to clean their dirty dishes.

“My brother is awesome,” Georgie tells him, before struggling to climb onto the countertop. Stan laughs, wiping his hands off on a towel and lifting Georgie to sit down on the counter. “Thanks— my big brother is so cool. He’s really smart, and he helps me with my school work a lot.”

“Yeah? That’s nice of him.” Stan smiles softly, scrubbing at the dirty bowl.

“And he’s really nice— and strong. He works out a lot.”

Stan laughs at that and nods, tossing a clean rag at Georgie. “He sounds dreamy. I’ll wash if you dry, okay?”

“Okay,” Georgie says, taking the rag and the bowl, allowing Stan to move onto to the measuring cups. “He wants to be an author.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. When he was in high school, he won a contest and he got to go to New York for a weekend. I got to go with him.”

“That’s nice,” Stan grins. “I’d love to meet your brother sometime, Georgie. He sounds wonderful.”

“I’m staying with him for the weekend because my parents are away for a business thing. Maybe we can come over tomorrow?”

Stan hesitates. “Sure, Georgie.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise. Do you think we’ll get along, your brother and I?”

He doesn’t ask Georgie for his brother’s name. Something about the strange turn of events almost makes the whole situation seem like something out of a romantic comedy; where in a serendipitous moment, Georgie’s brother will appear in the door— the rain will stop, the sunlight causing a halo to form around his head as birds fly around this elusive stranger, and they’ll fall in love before they can even introduce themselves. “I think you guys will get along just fine,” Georgie tells him.

 

The cookies need twenty minutes in the oven, so Stan suggests they watch TV. But then Georgie sees the bird book on the coffee table and insists that Stan read to him about the different birds, and how can Stanley say no to a face like that?

(Part of Stan is flattered that Georgie remembers that his favorite bird is the Cedar Waxwing, because when he gets to that inscription, Georgie sits up from his lap and smiles, because “Hey! They do have really pretty colors!”)

Then there’s a knock at the door, and part of Stan doesn’t want it to be Georgie’s brother. He was supposed to study all day, but having Georgie in his room for the thirty minutes helped him unwind from his classes; the other part of Stan is excited to meet this mystery man, and it’s this piece of mind that convinces him to get up and reach the door before Georgie, telling him to stay back because it might be someone else.

“Hey Stan,”

“What do you want, Denbrough?”

“Geez,” Bill puts his hands up in defense, leaning against the doorway. “Richie told me my brother was here, and I’m here to get him out of your hair— which, might I add, looks adorable in that little ponytail you’re sporting.” Bill smirks, and Stan brings his hand up to pull out the ponytail. The quick sting as he yanks a few strands of hair is enough to bring Stanley back to reality.

“Wait, you’re Georgie’s brother?”

“Yep,” He pops the ‘p’ on the word and Stan swears he hears thunder booming ominously (too bad the rain stopped fifteen minutes ago).

“Billy!” Stan hears behind him, and he watches Georgie run and jump into Bill’s arms.

“Where have you been, you lil’ punk?” Bill laughs, spinning him around and peppering his face with kisses. “I would’ve been here sooner, but I was gross after working out and had to shower.”

“We know.” Stan comments. “Thin walls. We could hear your music.”

Georgie lifts his head from Bill’s shoulder and gasps. “That was Bill’s music we heard? That means you called my brother a jackass!”

Stan blushes. Bill laughs, ruffling his brother’s hair. “That’s grown-up talk for a handsome babe.” Stan rolls his eyes.

Bill’s eyes trail up and down the bird apron around Stan, and Georgie grins. “Stanley and I made cookies! Do you want some?”

Bill looks at Stan for approval, and Stan almost says no (but then he looks at Georgie, who blinks at him with big puppy dog eyes). “Yeah, alright. But they have to cool a little before we can eat them.” He says, begrudgingly welcoming Bill into his dorm and padding towards the kitchen.

Stan overhears Georgie scold Bill for entering with his shoes on, and he hears Bill laugh again, before the door closes. When Stan turns around, cookie sheet in hand, he nearly has a heart attack at the sight of Bill standing there, Georgie still wrapped around his torso; Stan feels his cheeks heat up over the charming nature of Bill taking care of his younger brother. He seems truly relieved to see him now, and when he smiles at Stan, there’s not a hint of perversion behind his teeth, which are straight like a soldier’s cemetery. But then the innocence of the grin dissolves as Bill whistles. “Damn, why don’t you bend over that oven for me again, baby?”

Georgie smacks him on the head. “Darn!” He corrects him.

Bill laughs, easily adjusting his grip on his brother and hurling him over his shoulder. “Yeah, darn. Say, Stan, do you mind if we wait in your living room?”

“Go right ahead,” Stan breathes out, feeling guilty for the way his eyes linger on Bill’s arms as he effortlessly lifts his brother towards the living room.

When Stan gets there, Bill’s sitting in his spot on the couch— _his spot_ — with Georgie sitting on his lap. Georgie holds Stan’s book in his hands, and when Stan sits down (and after Georgie asks him to scoot closer to Bill), Georgie hands Stan the book. “You should read to me and Bill! Tell him about the Boheman Waxwing and— and others!”

“ _Bohemian_ ,” Stan mumbles, but opens the book to the bookmarked page. Before he starts, Bill stretches his arm around Stan’s shoulder, and Stan sends him a pointed glare. He’s about to open his mouth again, but the two being closer allows Georgie to sit on Bill’s lap with his legs draped over Stan’s. Not wanting to bother Georgie, Stan grumbles in defeat as Bill smirks, winking at Stan.

 

In several minutes, Stan tells them that the cookies are finished cooling (honestly, Stan has no clue whether they’re cool enough, he just can’t stand the spicy aroma of Bill’s cologne anymore— it’s not bad or anything, and that’s the problem. Occasionally, Georgie will ask Stan a question while Stan’s reading out loud, and he’ll find himself too tempted to nestle closer into the warmth of Bill’s side to even register the question, and he’ll have to ask Georgie to repeat himself; whenever this happens, Stan can see Bill’s smirk grow more and more.

He sets up three little plates and cups of milk, setting them around the table; unfortunately, with three people at a circular table, it’s impossible to avoid sitting next to Bill, but that doesn’t stop Stan from stomping on Bill’s foot whenever he feels a sock brush against his calf. Bill swears, and Stan scolds him for using such profanity in front of his brother. Bill huffs and fixes his hair underneath his snapback, and for once, Stan is the once that’s smirking.

Eddie shows up and is very confused to see Stan and Bill on the couch with Georgie sitting between them. Both Georgie and Bill turn their attention away from Stan, and sheepishly greet him with a wave.

“I’m going to shower.” Eddie says slowly, and makes his way to his room.

Then, Bill gets a text from Richie, and says that they have to leave. Stan almost feels sad, like he doesn’t want to say goodbye to Georgie— he didn’t really care for Bill.

“Wait,” Georgie stops and turns to look at Stanley hopefully. “We’re all still hanging out tomorrow, right? You promised.”

Bill makes a curious face, so Stan explains, “I promised Georgie that I’d hang out with him and his brother tomorrow— but I didn’t know you were his brother, so if you have plans or something, it’s—”

“Yeah, sounds fun.” Bill nods. He hands Georgie the key to his dorm. “Hey, I’ll meet you in the room, okay?”

“Okie dokie!” Georgie nods, and waves goodbye before disappearing out of the door.

“So,” Bill pauses, looking down at the plate of cookies in his hands. “I just wanted to say thanks. I mean, I probably shouldn’t have left Georgie with Richie, he’s not exactly the most responsible person in the world,” Stan nods in agreement, and Bill bites his lip. “You should let me take you out sometime, thank you more personally.”

Oh. “Oh,” Stan’s smile falters, but Bill’s smirk doesn’t falter. “No, it’s alright. Georgie’s a darling, and I enjoyed his company today.”

“Worth a shot,” Bill brushes off the rejection easily, but before he leaves, he leans against the doorway. “Oh, and I hope you know that I’ll be seeing you and that bird apron in my dreams,” Stan frowns. “You wearing that apron and nothing else,” he clarifies with a wink, and he’s gone.

 

At dinner, Eddie leans over the table and whispers, like what he says will be judged by the people around them. “Why was Denbrough in our dorm?”

Stan shrugs. “Oh, Georgie— his little brother— got lost on the way up to his brother’s room, and he ended up in ours.” He pauses. “And so Bill came to pick him up and—”

“—So you all cuddled up on the couch?”

“Give me a break, Eddie. We weren’t cuddling.”

“His arm was around you and you had that kid in your lap, Stan. That’s cuddling.”

“His name is Georgie,” Stan mumbles, face heating up.

Eddie sighs, leaning back into his seat. “Why him?”

“Why him? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, I just—” Eddie laughs softly. “I figured you’d be into a more— a more refined kind of person.”

“Says the guy who likes Trashmouth Tozier.”

Eddie’s face blossoms into radiant shades of pinks and reds, making his freckles stand out like stars in a sunset. “Shut up.”

Stan laughs, before realizing that he hasn’t clarified that he does not like Bill Denbrough. “Besides, I don’t even like—” Their waitress stops at their table and hands them their food. The conversation is dropped and they don’t bring it up for the rest of the night.

* * *

_  
i know i said the thing about you and your bird apron, but i could also get used to you reading your bird book out loud for ages_

Stan doesn’t have to think about who the text is from, but it does momentarily forget how Bill got his number (ah yes, from when Georgie called him). Stan types out a simple response: _Go to sleep, Bill._ but deletes it as he sees another text from Bill appear

_sorry im probably keeping you up lmao. night_

_Goodnight._

 

Stan goes to sleep.

 


	2. October 15 - 159 Days Before the Accident

Stan smiles when he sees Georgie’s little yellow raincoat, but frowns when he sees Bill standing behind Georgie. “Oh, I forgot you would be joining us.” Stan says cooly, before smiling again at Georgie. “Are you ready for our walk?”

Georgie nods, and holds his hand out for Stan to take. “Yeah! I have two hands, so I’ll hold Billy’s hand with this hand—” he gestures with his other hand, already holding onto Bill, “and we can hold hands with this hand!” He tenses his fingers up at Stan, who laughs and takes his hand.

The air outside is chilly and damp from the rain from yesterday. They don’t see many birds, but Georgie insists that it’s because they’re all at some secret bird party in the forest. “We can’t go in the forest, George,” Bill tells him. “Because we weren’t invited to the bird party.”

As much as Stan hates to admit it, Bill is an attractive man. His brunette hair stands out brilliantly against his pale skin, which in turn makes his icy blue eyes appear even more piecing. He has a nice laugh, and his voice reminds Stan of a forest— a little sharp, but all the more alluring. His hand holds onto his brother with a protective strength, and when Stan sees Bill’s wrist poke out underneath his jacket sleeve, Stan wants to measure it’s width in relation to his hand, to see if he can wrap his fingers around it.

“Stan?”

“Hm,” He looks away from Bill.

Bill’s lips pull into a lopsided grin, but he repeats his question. “What are you majoring in, again?”

“I’m studying to be an accountant.”

Bill laughs. “Do you want to be an accountant, or do your parents want you to be an accountant?”

“What if it’s both?” Stan mumbles.

He shrugs. “I just think an accountant is the kind of job that you get stuck with, you know? Are you okay with such a boring lifestyle?”

“Some people like boring, thank you very much.” Stan bites. “Besides, it’s a stable workforce.”

Bill retreats, smirk dissolving into a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean— I want to be an author, that’s not a stable job at all.”

“I think I want to be a bird party planner when I’m older,” Georgie blurts out. “That way, I can be invited to the bird parties in the woods.”

Bill laughs, and ruffles Georgie’s hair. “Only if you invite me and Stan to these bird parties. Right, Stan?”

His annoyance disappears as he looks down at the bright naivety in Georgie’s grin, and when he looks at Bill, he no longer has an aura of arrogance, but instead one of warmth and a little humor. “Right.”

 

Bill suggests they have a nerf gun war in his dorm, since Richie’s doing the radio all afternoon. Stan is reluctant to agree, but when Georgie squeals with joy and begins tugging him and Bill towards their dorms, Stan can’t help but go along with it.

After a fifteen minute lesson on how to use a nerf gun and the rules to their nerf-war, they’ve divided into teams— Bill was adamant about being on Stan’s team, since he still didn’t quite grasp the point of their game, but Georgie insists that Stan be on his team, because they have matching guns.

Bill shuts the blinds and turns off the light, so the only illumination from the room is from a lamp he turns on in the corner of the room, which they declare as their safe zone (which doesn’t really exist, but Georgie’s afraid of the dark); the couch serves as the barrier between team firebird and team dumb dumb —Georgie picked out the names. They decide that the bedrooms are off limits, and Stan sets up the small radio to play Richie’s channel, since his music taste is mainly energetic pop. Georgie and Bill are distracted for long enough for Stan to sneak into Bill’s room.

He’s not snooping— why would he, he doesn’t have any reason to— but instead using the alone time as an excuse to check his phone. Grades for a recent calc test were supposed to be released, and Stan knows he has to keep up his reputation of earning top marks.

“So much for the bedrooms for being off limits, huh?” Bill laughs.

Stan spins around. “Sorry— I was—”

“If you wanted to get into my bedroom, you could’ve just asked me, babe.”

“Not— no.” Stan frowns. “Don’t _babe_ me, either.”

“Sure thing, doll.”

“Or that—” Stan rolls his eyes. “I’m only here for Georgie, I hope you realize that.”

“And yet he’s out there—” Bill points to the door with his nerf gun, smirk ever apparent in the dark room, “and we’re in here.”

Stan blushes from disgust (he swears— Bill’s suave nature may break some weak-minded people, but Stanley Uris is not one to be broken by some nice, spicy colognes and hushed voices). Good thing the lights are off. He opens his mouth to speak, but the door opens behind them.

“Hey!” Georgie frowns. “Bedrooms are off-limits!”

Stan shoots Bill in the leg, which prompts Georgie to unload all of his nerf-darts on Bill. A few hit Stan, due to their proximity (how did they get so close?), but enough land on Bill to declare the loser, and make Stan and Georgie the winners of their nerf war.

Their prize is to pick a movie to watch. Well, Georgie picks, because Stan doesn’t own many movies. He picks _The Iron Giant_ , and as they leave the bedroom, Bill grabs Stan’s wrist. “You have a—” he pulls a nerf dart off of Stan’s shoulder. But he doesn’t remove his light grip on Stan. “There you go.” He winks.

Stan shakes his hand free and sits next to Georgie on the couch. Bill follows, seconds behind, and sets up the movie.

Once again, Bill sits next to Stan, arm draped around his shoulder (“For comfort,” he insists), and Georgie sitting on his lap. A few minutes in, Stan notices that Georgie’s asleep on Bill’s shoulder, and when Bill catches him staring, Bill quirks a brow, “I have another shoulder, if you want to cuddle up with the Den-bro too, you know?”

“I can’t believe you just called yourself that.” Stan elbows him lightly, but doesn’t move. “And I’ve never seen this movie before.”

“No way,”

Stan shrugs. “I never was a big cartoon person.”

“Okay, then I redact the invitation to cuddle. We’re watching this movie.” Bill tells him. “It’s his favorite movie— mine too— and you’ve been deprived if you haven’t seen it.”

Stan laughs, but nods. “Yeah, okay.”

 

The movie is good. Stan is surprised by how much he likes it, but he enjoys seeing Bill tear up during the movie even more. Once it’s over, Bill presses a quick kiss to the slumbering Georgie’s forehead. “You’re lucky he fell asleep ten minutes in— usually he talks during movies.”

Stan yawns, but smiles at him. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind. Georgie’s such a sweetie.”

“Yeah, so are you—” Bill nudges him, but Stan rolls his eyes. “What, did I kill the mood?”

“What mood?”

“You know—” he winks. “The date mood.”

“This wasn’t a date.” Stan laughs. Bill pouts.

“Ah, come on— you’re into me.”

“Definitely not,” Stan tells him sharply, “Keep this up and I won’t even like you as my acquaintance anymore.”

“Acquaintance? Are we not even friends, Stanley?”

“I’m friends with Georgie,” Stan says, and smiles as Bill wipes a fake tear from his eye.

“You sure wound me, Uris.” Bill says, and looks at the screen. “You know, we’ve been watching the credits for ten minutes now.”

Stan blushes. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Bill raises his brows, but then looks back down to Georgie. “Oh, I should probably get him home soon, it’s a forty minute drive— hey, do you want to maybe come with us? I’m sure Georgie would love to say goodbye, maybe show you his posters or something.”

Stan checks the time on his phone. “It’s kind of late. I have a test tomorrow at six.”

“Damn,” Bill whistles, but nods, slowly shuffling to stand up. Georgie makes a sleepy noise. “Well, maybe next time?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Stan hums, standing up as well.

“Stanny?” Georgie murmurs. Stan blinks at the nickname, but puts a gentle hand on Georgie’s shoulder. Georgie stretches his arms around Stan’s neck and pulls him into a loose hug. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Georgie,” He pulls away, and they walk towards the door. “Hey—” he stops and looks and Bill; Stan’s key hovers inches away from the door, and he questions whether a forty minute drive would really impact his sleep all that much (but then the ride _back_ , Stan thinks, that’s eighty minutes). He blinks. Bill has been staring at him for a while now. He flushes, and his gaze retreats down the hall, keeping Bill in his perifery. “—Drive safe.”

Bill smiles softly, and nods, before fixing his grip on Georgie and heading down the hallway. Stan doesn’t realize he’s staring until Bill’s out of his sight, and the door swings open.

“Hey,” Eddie says, looking at him strangely, “are you coming in or what?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Stan says, and enters the dorm.

* * *

  _georgie was pissed when he woke up at home because you werent there_

_Whoops. I’ll be there next time._

_youre not getting too attached to me, are you uris?_

_You wish._

_yeah i do(;_

_Goodnight, Bill._

_night xx_

 


	3. October 20 - 154 Days Before the Accident

When Stan opens the door, Bill’s leaning against the wall. He grins lazily at Stan, who quirks a brow. It’s a Friday night, and Eddie’s grabbing his wallet from the counter.

“Uh, hey?” Stan says.

“Hey, Stan!” Bill greets him, “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

“Hello,” Eddie says curtly, and Stan moves so that they both share the space in the door. “Stan and I are going to the library after lunch and getting dinner later.”

“Hey— Eds, right?”

Eddie turns pink. “Eddie.”

“Okay. Anyway—” Bill looks back up at Stan. Stan feels a twinge of annoyance from his tone, but it melts away as he continues. “Want to come over for breakfast? I’m getting Georgie tonight, and he’s usually tuckered out after school, but I’m sure he’d love to see you tomorrow.”

Stan nods slowly. “Yeah, okay.”

Bill grins and chewing his gum with an open mouth as he continues. “Great. Richie’ll be there, unless you’d rather it just be us?”

“Why would I want it to just be us?” Stan asks, before answering his own question. “It’s not a date.”

“Why do you keep turning me down?” Bill groans, fixing his hair, but he smiles. “I’ll get you someday, Uris.”

“I have his textbook—” Stan ignores him, “maybe I can help with breakfast, and Richie can pick it up?”

“Why don’t you just bring it with you?” Bill quirks a brow. “Oh, so you  _ do _ want some alone time, huh?”

“You’re right. I’ll just bring it with me.” Stan snaps, quirking his own brow in victory.

“Smirking a good look for you, Stan,” Bill points out, and laughs as Stan’s lopsided smile falters.

He clears his throat. “I just don’t know if I trust Richie in the kitchen.”

Bill nods. “Ah— then yeah, he can come pick up his textbook.” He laughs to himself, placing a hand on the wall next to Stan and leaning onto it. “Hey, Eddie? Will you be in your dorm? Because if you are, Richie’s probably going to stay as long as he can,” He winks at Stan.

“What the hell does that mean?” Eddie asks.

Bill shrugs, and looks back at Stan. “So, let’s say eight o’clock?”

Stan nods. “Eight o’clock.”

Bill nods, and puckers his lips and making a soft kissy noise. Stan rolls his eyes and Bill laughs again, pushing off of the wall and heading back into his dorm.

“What did he mean by that?” Eddie asks.

Stan shrugs, a small crooked smile still ghosting his lips. Bill closes the door to his dorm and Stan shakes away the thought. “Ready to go?”

 

Since Eddie asks six more times during the play, Stan texts Bill during the intermission.

_ What did you mean by “Richie’s going to want to stay as long as he can”? _

_ this is the first time you texted me first lmao _

_ hey(; _

_ What did you mean by “Richie’s going to want to stay as long as he can”? _

_ wow okay i saw it the first time geez _

_ hes had a crush on eddie since he patched richie up after his skateboarding incident _

_ he calls eddie ‘eds’, its kind of cute imo _

_ Well, Eddie hates being called Eds, by the way. _

Stan looks up at Eddie, who’s been reading over his shoulder.

_ At least he claims he does. _

_ you me eddie richie : double date sometime? _

_ They aren’t dating yet. _

“Yet?” Eddie echoes.

_ we arent either _

_ yet(; _

_ Intermission is over. I’ve got to go. _

_ have fun xxxx _

 

They make their way back into the theater and Stanley turns off his phone. Eddie nudges him as the lights dim. “Holy fuck,”

“What?” Stan whispers back.

“Richie’s going to see our dorm tomorrow,” he says. “It’s so messy, I’m going to clean all morning.”

“Please. It’s Richie. I doubt he cares.”

“Well maybe I do, okay?” Eddie huffs, and they turn their attention back to the actors on stage.

* * *

 

_ 8:00? _

_ 8:00. _

  
  



	4. October 21 - 153 Days Before the Accident

“So,” Eddie leans over the table, “how was your day?”

Stan shrugs. “Fine. How was—”

“You don’t get to say  _ fine _ and move on!  What did you guys do for breakfast? What did you do after?” Eddie says, exasperated.

Stan answers after sipping his water thoughtfully. “We made pancakes. Georgie tried to make them into different shapes. Bill make me a bird pancake because he knows I like them. After that, we watched Star Wars.”

“Anything else? Richie said that Bill was really giddy after you left.”

“Probably happy to get me out of his dorm—” Stan jokes, but Eddie frowns. “He called me beautiful, I guess.”

“Really?” Eddie blinks back, “That’s— surprisingly sweet, actually.”

“Yeah.” Stan frowns. “But that’s just him being a fuckboy.”

“I don’t know, fuckboys don’t usually invite their victims over for breakfast with their brother,” Eddie points out.

Stan changes the topic. “How was your day with Richie?”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to avoid the question. “Oh, it was fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah,” Eddie pauses. “He walked in while I was vacuuming and singing Africa by Toto.”

Stan snorts. Eddie holds his face in his hands.

“So Richie was like  _ oh, good to know you’re into dudes _ , and I was like  _ what do you mean?  _ and Richie pointed out that Africa is a gay anthem, and, according to him,  _ no straight man knows how to move his hips like I do _ .”

“Sounds like love to me,” Stan shrugs, the corners of his lips quirking up as Eddie chokes on his spit.

After he recovers, Eddie continues. “Then he helped me clean, but he kept making anatomy jokes—  since we have that class together.”

“Bill said that since he needed a way to fill his schedule, so he took classes with content that would be good for jokes.”

“ _ Let’s learn each other’s anatomy? _ ” Eddie quotes, “ _ Wanna see my bone _ ?”

“Bill didn’t say anything about them being good jokes.”

 


	5. October 25 - 149 Days Before the Accident

“C’mon, Stanley the Manley!” Richie groans, flopping over Eddie on the couch. His lanky, stretched figure of mostly arms and legs covers Eddie, who only rolls his eyes and laughs. His hand finds his way to Richie’s hair and he sighs, watching Stan as he crosses his arms. “Mike’s got nothing on you!”

“Mike’s a Golden God and we all know it.” Stan said, thinking about the decathlon  captain. “I just— Bill acted like he wanted to be exclusive, and now he goes out and fucks around with this  _ model _ , and— I don’t know.” Stan huffs. “I’m not disappointed. I have no reason to be, because Bill and I don’t have anything between us.”

“Sure.” Richie rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just worried that he’ll rub off on Georgie or something.”

“Woah, woah,” Richie rolls over and looks at him, and for the first time in twelve years, Richie looks deadly serious. “Bill’s a great brother.”

“No, I— fuck. I didn’t mean that he wasn’t.”

“Easy, Rich,” Eddie says, smoothing Richie’s back down into his lap. “Stan’s just jealous. That’s all.”

“I’m not jealous!” Stan says, exasperated.

“You are!” Eddie cries. “You’ve been moping this whole day, rereading your texts with Bill and sighing nonstop!”

Stan goes red. “So— so what if I am? Bill and I are— we’re just,” he sighs. “I can’t be the kind of guy Bill wants. I don’t do parties, I don’t do crowds, and— fuck, he can’t seem to settle down for a second, without moving on to someone better.”

Richie sighs. “Bill’s just afraid of commitment, Stan. Don’t take it personally.” He shuts his eyes behind his big red frames and frowns. “Shit, this is frustrating for me, too. He talks about you like you’re— I don’t know— like you’re  _ different _ from everyone else. But settling down isn’t his  _ forte _ , you know? Don’t worry, Uris. I’m putting in a good word for you every chance I get.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Stan shrugs, but the weight in his chest feels a bit lighter now.

“He and Mike are just super good friends, too. According to Bill, he’s been talking to this guy in his english class— Ben, I think? Anyway, Bill’s helping Mike and him get together.”

“Oh.” And the weight in his chest flies straight out the window.

Just then, Eddie’s phone buzzes. He looks at it and swears, pushing Richie off of his lap and walking towards the hallway. “Greta’s not at work, so they need me to fill in. Rich, can you take me?” Richie nods, and Stan can’t help but smile as he watches his friend stare at Eddie Kaspbrak like he invented the sun. “Thanks. Let me just grab my shoes.”

Richie rolls off the couch, but leans on Stan’s shoulder. “Say, Uris—” he looks around carefully. “What’s Eddie’s favorite kind of flower?”

Stan rolls his eyes, but his smile grows. “Tulips. Yellow, specifically.”

Richie nods and shoots finger guns at Stan, before following Eddie towards the door. “Ready to go, Eds?”

“Don’t call me that,  _ Dick _ ,” Stan can hear the frown in his voice, but years of living with him has also allowed Stan to identify the subtle affection that hides underneath the sharp words.

* * *

_ Richie brought tulips to the ER and took me out for ice cream after my shift !! I was sweaty and gross and he said I looked like a babe !!1! _

_ Did you tell him those were my favorites or something ?? Thank you ! _

* * *

 

_ You and Mike don’t have anything between you two, right? _

_geez, what are you doing up at 11:40? i'm not keeping you up at night, am I?(;_

_ no, hes just a really good friend that i like to grind with sometimes _

_ you can always replace him as my go-to dance partner tho(; _

_ Richie said you’re afraid of commitment _

_ im not afraid of commitment _

_ im afraid of the follow-through of said commitment _

_ Richie also said that you talked about me like I’m different. _

_ you are different, stan. youre so _

_ youre you _

_ and you have no idea how weird you make me feel _

_ Good weird? _

 


	6. October 26 - 148 Days Before the Accident

* * *

 

_the best kind of weird_

_now go to bed, stanley_

_sweet dreams_

  



	7. November 4 - 139 Days Before the Accident

According to Bill, once Georgie found out that Stan never really watched many animated movies growing up, he took it upon himself to bring all of his favorites from home, and Georgie invites him to spend the entire weekend in Bill’s dorm, watching them all.

“I couldn’t, really,” Stan says. “I don’t want to be a bother for you— or Richie,”

“Oh please, Richie can always stay in your dorm or something. I’m sure he’d appreciate the time alone with Eddie.” Bill winks at him. “And I’d appreciate the time with you.”

Stan scoffs. “That’s sweet, but it’s Saturday. Eddie and I always go out for dinner on Saturdays.”

“And you won’t miss out on one dinky dinner with your pal for a night with me?” Bill pouts.

“It’s not  _ dinky _ , it’s tradition.” Stan frowns, and for once, he’s glad that Eddie’s so adamant about keeping up their routinely dinners.

 

“What do you mean,  _ he’s back to his old ways _ ?” Eddie asks incredulously. “Two weeks ago you were all over him!”

“Yeah, but then he was nothing but a sleazebag while I was there! Nothing but sexual innuendos and humble brags— flexing every chance he could get, it was so agitating!” Stan groans, flopping back into his seat. “I’m not interested in show-offy assholes.”

“You’re just overworked from exams,” Eddie tells him. “We have a month off, I’m going back home, you’re going back home, we’ll all be able to just take a break. Maybe Bill will get some sense for Christmas, and he’ll come back less douchey.”

Stan laughs, but then sighs. “I’m just disappointed, because I thought I was finally getting to know the real Bill. But it turns out that the prince I was falling only exists when his little brother’s around— well no, because today Bill was being exceptionally obnoxious with his brother sitting right next to us!”

“Hey, this is the first time you’ve ever admitted that you’re falling for him.”

“ _ Fell _ .” Stan corrects sourly, staring down at his dinner. “I don’t like this fake-Bill that’s possessed him. Tell Richie that I’ll talk to Bill when he’s willing to be real.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, and pulls out his phone.

Stan rolls his eyes. “I didn’t mean that literally, Eddie.”

“I know,” Eddie shrugs, and winks. “But I have a feeling you’re still falling, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“I think hanging around Trashmouth has lowered your I.Q., Eddie.”

“Says the guy who’s known him since you were, what, twelve?”

“Touche.”

* * *

 

_ hey, maybe we can hang out sometime during winter break? (: _

  
  



	8. January 3 - 79 Days Before the Accident

“Stanley, open up!” Bill repeats, knocking on the door.

Finally, after fifty minutes of trying to ignore the banging, Stan gives in. “You don’t know how to take a hint, do you?”

“Please, I’ve got something for you.” Bill calls out.

Stan huffs. “Fine, but only because you’re being obnoxious and I feel bad for our neighbors.”

When he opens the door, he’s met with a bouquet of sunflowers. They’re real and lovely, yes, but the smile on Bill’s face is artificial and fake, and Stan shuts the door again.

“Dude, what the hell!”

“Look, it’s a sweet gesture, but I’m not interested.”

“Richie and Eddie said that you wanted a prince! So I fucking bought you flowers— sunflowers, your favorites! What else do I have to do, Uris?” Bill yells. 

Stan twitches, and the door swings open again. “Do you honestly expect me to drop down on my knees for you, just because you bought me some flowers?”

Bill’s exasperated expression diffuses into a cocky grin. “Well, I mean, if you’re offering.”

Stan groans and shuts the door.

“Dude, come on, I was kidding!”

Stan opens the door. “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

“Who am I? I’m fucking Bill Denbrough!” Bill blinks, taking off his snapback and running his hands through his hair. Stan rolls his eyes and shuts the door. “You know, you’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Well, at least that’s me being genuine.” Stan shouts back.

Through the door, Stan can hear Bill sigh, and then settle next to the door. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What did you think was going to happen between us, Bill?” Stan snarls. “Did you think I was going to let you fuck me? What— so you can go and tell your other slimy friends that you banged the bird-brained loner?”

“No, Stan, of course not! I just— I  _ like _ you. And I thought I was making progress with you, and then you ignored me all winter break!”

“Yeah, well,” Stan sighs. “There’s two reasons for that.”

“Which are?”

“One: you’re a fuckboy.”

“Okay, that’s a matter of opinion.”

“No, it’s really not, Bill.” Stan leans against the wall. “You putting on this confident, flirty personality, but I’m not into that sort of facade. I want to get to know the  _ real _ you. Look, when you’re with Georgie, you’re sweet, and you’re nice, and you’re funny— but as soon as I started liking  _ that _ Bill, you became this obnoxious asshole!”

“ _ Asshole _ ? I haven’t gone out with Richie in  _ weeks _ ! No more partying— for you, Stanley!”

“I never asked you to do that!”

“I got you flowers,” Bill snaps.

“Yeah, because Eddie and Richie told you that I wanted a  _ prince _ , and they told you that I like sunflowers!” Stan didn’t realize he was shouting; he was only trying to match Bill’s volume, but now that both are quiet, Stan realizes the magnitude of his words.

“Look, Stan— I’m sorry. Okay. I— fuck, I really like you.” Bill says. It’s hard to hear him from behind the door, so Stan leans his head against the wall to get a closer. Stan can imagine Bill doing the same, and wonders if maybe, that’s how they’re connected in this moment.

“Okay,” Stan says bluntly.

“You want to get to know the real me?” Bill repeats.

“Yeah,” Stan says.

Bill pauses. “Okay. If I try, will you give me a chance? Just as friends, even.”

Stan considers it, before finally letting his anger subside a little. “We can try. As friends.”

Stan waits for a response but doesn’t get one back. When he opens the door minutes later, the flowers sit at his feet. They are pretty, and Stanley considers thanking Bill. But he doesn’t, instead he picks them up and sighs, before bringing them into his dorm.


	9. January 6 - 76 Days Before the Accident

“Two bouquets in three days?” Stan quirks a brow, but takes the flowers from Georgie’s hands.

“These ones aren’t from Bill— they’re from me!” Georgie grins, and Stan welcomes him in as he goes in to find a vase.

“Well, they’re lovely, Georgie. Thank you.” Stan says, and crouches down to hug the boy. Georgie’s arms wrap around Stan’s neck, and when Stan tries to stand up, Georgie doesn’t move. Stan lifts Georgie, earning a laugh from him.

“You’re welcome, Stanny!” Georgie says into his neck. Then, Georgie looks at Stan seriously. “My brother says you’re mad at him.”

“A little, yeah.” Stan sighs, but he quickly continues. “But we’re still friends, Bill and I.”

“Well that’s okay. He can be dumb sometimes.” Georgie shrugs, and Stan laughs. “But, he told me to tell you that he’s going to try very hard to make you not-mad at him anymore.”

“That’s good to know, thank you.”

“And so we were wondering if you wanted to come over? I brought a book from home that Bill wants you to see!”

“Did Bill send you over here because he knows that I can’t say no to you?” Stan asks himself, but nods, heading towards the door. “Because that’s very smart of him. Let’s see what Bill wants to show me.”

 

Stan is pleasantly surprised when he enters the dorm. Bill is wearing his signature snapback, but his pajama bottoms allude to a lack of effort in his outfit— well, Stanley did say he wanted to see the real him. “Hiya, Georgie,” Bill smiles, and Georgie holds his arms out for Bill to take him. “Uh, hey, Stan.”

“Hello, Bill,” Stan smiles, but looks down at his shoes. “Nice to see you.”

“Yeah, you too. Here—” Bill gestures for Stan to follow him into the living room. “You said you wanted to see the real me, so I figured, what better than to show you some old photos. Of the real me.” Bill clears his throat, and leads him to the living room. Then, he pulls out a photo album, nudging it towards Stan to open.

Stan raises a brow, but smiles and sits next to Bill, reaching over to flip the page. The first few pages are innocent baby photos. Although the Christmas photos are staged, Stan finds himself smiling along with the young Bill. “I like the Christmas hat,” Stan laughs, thumbing over a red oversized hat which falls past young-Bill’s face.

“Ah, come on.” Bill blushes. “Don’t tell me your parents didn’t prop you up and pose you for Christmas photos.”

Stan shakes his head. “I’m Jewish.”

Bill smacks his head, and Georgie laughs. “Oh, duh— I knew that. Richie told me a while ago— Say, have you ever celebrated Christmas before?”

“Yes, actually. With Richie and his family. Although, back in Georgia, I doubt it’s the same— no snow.”

“You should celebrate with us, sometime. I’m sure our folks would love to have you!” Bill grins, and elbows Georgie lightly. “Don’t you think mom and dad would love Stan?”

“Yeah!” Georgie nods enthusiastically. “We always talk about you!”

“We?” Stanley quirks a brow, and Bill blushes again.

“Mostly Georgie,” Bill says, before shrugging. “I usually just agree with what he says.”

Stan smiles, and flips the page. Now, Bill’s school photos appear, and he looks a little more familiar. He flips another and there’s a photo of a hospital bed and the tired, smiling boy. “What happened here?”

“My parents and I got in a bad car wreck on the way to our aunt’s house once.” Bill shrugs. “I was ten, so Georgie wasn’t born yet.”

“Are you okay?” Stan asks automatically, before turning pink. “I mean, were you?”

Bill laughs easily. “Yeah, we were all fine. I was pretty messed up afterwards, though. I developed this bad stutter that I had until my senior year in high school.”

Stan raises his eyebrows. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.”

Now Bill’s cheeks tint red, and he brushes off the compliment. “I’m glad I grew out of it, but it also helped make me a better writer, I think. Because I spent so much time thinking about words and how to describe people and—” he clears his throat, “that sort of dumb shit.”

Stan shakes his head. “That’s not dumb. That’s endearing.”

Bill laughs, ears going pink.

“Okay, on to—” Stan flips the page. “ _ No _ .”

Bill catches a glimpse at the photos and pulls the scrapbook off of the coffee table, flipping past a vast chunk of the book. “—We’re skipping my teen years, let’s move on to Georgie’s baby photos.”

“ _ William _ .” Stanley says, reaching for the scrapbook. “Please, I have to see that again— was that  _ eyeliner _ ?”

Stan grabs the closed book and attempts to pull it back towards him, but Bill is stronger— he yanks the book back, causing Stan to yank forward as well. He braces himself on Bill’s chest, and Bill tosses the book across the floor. “Whoops.” Bill shrugs, smiling.

Stan laughs— he’s been doing a lot of that recently— until he realizes how close he is to Bill’s face. From here, he can see Bill’s chapped lips and the pimple next to his nose, but he also sees his grin, toothy and honest, and Stan thinks he’s absolutely handsome. Eyes trailing up, he also notices light bags under his eyes, surely from trying to keep up with his seven year old brother. Speaking of Georgie—

“Here’s the scrapbook, Stanny!” Georgie holds it out for him, and Stan lunges for it. 

“I can’t believe my own brother betrayed me!” Bill cries out, arms subconsciously wrapping around Stan’s waist as he fake sobs into his shoulder.

“Noo!” Georgie rushes to his brother’s side and hugs him. “I love you, Billy!”

“Love you too, Georgie.” Bill mumbles into Stan’s hair, before realizing quickly. “Oh, shit, sorry Stan.” His arms unravel from Stan’s sides, and Stan suddenly feels a little colder. “I got a bit carried away there, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t mind, Bill,” Stan tells him, and leans into his side. Bill blinks, before draping his arm around Stan’s shoulder. “Now, let’s look at eyeliner-Bill.”

 

The worst part about eyeliner-Bill, is how  _ well _ he manages to pull off the look. It makes his eyes appear even brighter, and even his pouted lips held more of a punk impression than a bratty. When Stan comments on his mastering of the look, Bill mumbles something about practicing it in the mirror, and Stan leans into Bill when he laughs.

“What are you even wearing here, Bill?” Stan asks incredulously, pointing at the three belts which wrap around his skinny frame. “And big chunky boots?”

Bill smacks Stan’s hand away from the photo. “Don’t go judging emo-Bill’s fashion choices. And the shoes were my mom’s, thank you very much.”

“You look ridiculous, Billy.” Georgie tells him bluntly. Stan cracks up again.

“Gee, thanks, George.” Bill frowns, but brings both hands up to ruffle his and Stan’s hair. 

* * *

 

_ georgie wants to do something tomorrow, do you have plans? _

_ No, I’m free. _

_ You should send me that photo of you with the eyeliner. _

_ why lmao _

_ So I can use it for your contact photo, I don’t have any  _ _ photos of you. _

_ oh yeah! _

_ no, you cant use that photo of me, but tomorrow lets take a photo together _

_ you me and georgie _

_ Okay. _

_ hey stan? _

_ Hm? _

_ emo bill is the real me _

_ or he was anyway _

_ i wasnt lying when i said you were different _

_ I know, and I appreciate the effort. _

_ I had a lot of fun today, Bill. _

_ yeah me too _

_ I’m going to go to bed. _

_ Goodnight, Bill. _

_ sweet dreams stanley _

  
  



	10. January 20 - 62 Days Before the Accident

They would go on another walk, but it’s too cold. So instead, they curl up on the couch and watch the Iron Giant again (since Stan missed out on Georgie’s great commentary the last time, Bill tells him). Except this time, Stan doesn’t shy away from Bill’s hand around his shoulder, even as the hand eventually finds its way to his waist. Instead, he scoots closer and yawns softly, earning a chuckle from Bill.

“You’re not usually this cuddly, Uris.” Bill whispers. “Do I bore you that much?”

Stan shakes his head. “I stayed up doing homework for calculus.” He says into Bill’s shoulder. “My exhaustion is catching up to me now.”

“Well, shit, you can go to sleep if you want to.”

“I want to watch the movie,” Stan whines.

“So do I,” Georgie points out, “but you two keep talking!”

“That’s real funny coming from you, Georgie.” Bill scoffs. Georgie elbows him in the ribs and Bill yelps.

“I’ll wake you when the movie ends if you want,” Bill tells him. “Or I’ll carry you to my bed if you’d rather sleep there?”

Stan shakes his head. “No, I’m comfortable here—” Stan feels Bill’s neck head up, and if the lights were on, Stan’s sure he’d see the skin flush pink. “Besides, I’m not falling asleep.”

“Mhm. Sure you aren’t.” Bill says, and Stan closes his eyes so that he can imagine Bill’s brow quirking, his signature  _ oh, really? _ face.

Within seconds, Stan can’t bring himself to open his eyes again. He gently tugs Georgie (who sits between them still) close and presses a soft kiss to his hair. “G’night, Georgie.” he murmurs sleepily.

“Hey, aren’t you going to give Bill a kiss, too?”

“He doesn’t have to—” Bill squeaks as Stan’s lips connect with his jawline for a moment. It’s longer than the kiss to Georgie’s hair, and Stan can feel Bill’s heartbeat through his skin. He can also feel his face heat up, and Stan pulls away and hums lightly.

“Goodnight, Bill.”

Bill swallows thickly. “Goodnight, Stan.”

* * *

 

_ Attachment: One Image _

_ What the hell is this? _

_ this is from when you fell asleep on me _

_ You could have woken me up, you know. _

_ nah youre cute when youre asleep _

_ I hate you. _

_ (; xoxo _

  
  



	11. January 25 - 55 Days Before the Accident

It’s strange, as they spend more and more time together, Stan finds himself enjoying Bill’s company just as much as he does Georgie’s. There are several instances where Bill says something along the lines of, “Stan, where have you been all my life?” and Stan has to stop himself from saying, _Funny, but I was about to say the same thing._

This whole idea of love is so foreign to Stanley, it’s almost sad. He’s seen the movies, where the girl and the guy run to each other during a beach sunset, and fall to the ground and get sand everywhere, but they don’t care because love does that to people— that whole idea confuses Stan.

Or, at least it did. Stan believed that there were people who would find love, and there’d be people like him. But now, when he’s baking with Bill and Georgie, he’ll flick batter at Bill, earning a gasp and a mischievous smirk, before batter gets tossed in his direction. They clean up while Georgie eats the fruit of their labor happily, and Stan’s hard never stops racing after Bill’s hand brushes against his own.

 _Grab it!_ He wants to scream. _Grab my hand and hold it you jackass!_

But then Georgie will ask to play a board game, and the moment is over.

Or is it? Because when Stan’s in bed, he lies down and thinks about the warmth in Bill’s eyes. And the light in his laughter. It’s like Stan been living in the confines of his head, and suddenly Bill showed up and ripped the curtains open. It was uncomfortable, for a moment, but seeing Bill there, smiling at him, is a lovely sight to him.

Maybe, Stan decides, setting up three bowls of popcorn on the table, love doesn’t change you. He hears Richie talk about Eddie, talking about how Eddie makes him a  better person, but maybe Richie’s always better good. Maybe, love strips away the skin that has formed calluses over our souls, leaving us vulnerable, soft, pure. Eddie talks about being strong now that he has Richie standing next to him, sending him love and support, but Eddie’s always been strong, and, with that logic, maybe Stan has became a more genuine person too. He’s happier now, and finds himself smiling for no apparent reason when he passes by the snapback that Bill left on the table. And he wants to thank Bill for changing him like that, but how can you thank someone for sticking with you, even through your ugly parts? How can you repay someone who saw past your flaws, and trusted in their heart that you’d do the same? How do you thank someone for being home to you?

The knock on the door interrupts his thoughts and he leaves those questions unanswered in his mind. In the doorway stands Bill, no Georgie in sight. “Hey,” Bill says softly.

“Hey,” Stan repeats, smiling.

“Georgie’s sick,” Bill tells him after a moment, “I forgot to let you know, I figured it would just be easier if I told you in person.” He shrugs. “Besides, I—“

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“ _Bill.”_

He raises his hands in defense, laughing. “I just wanted to see you, okay? You were really quiet this week, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Stan blushes, his pink cheeks coordinating with Bill’s red ones, and slides the door further open. “Come in. I already made popcorn, and there’s no way I’m eating all of it.”

 

Rather than watch a movie, Stan mentions having homework, and Bill insists that Stan does that instead, since “you sacrifice so much time to hang out with Georgie.”

“Shut up,” Stan smacks him with his book lightly. “You know I like spending time with both of you.”

He doesn’t really know when he starts reading his accounting textbook out loud, but Stan does, and Bill lies down on the sofa, occasionally reaching over for a piece of popcorn, and shuts his eyes as he listens. Sometimes, Stan will watch Bill, and Bill will crack one eye open and smile at him, but mostly Stan reads to fill the silence that settles between them.

Even when he doesn't speak, the silence is calm. Like a sleeping animal, it fills the room with a brilliant sense of natural order— this was meant to be.

 

Every so often, there will be noise.

“Baseball’s starting up in March.”

“Oh? Georgie and I will cheer for you in the stands.”

“Yeah,” Bill grins. “I’d like that.”

Stan pauses, and looks at the clock on the wall. “I get sad sometimes.”

Bill’s quiet, but rolls onto his stomach to look at Stanley. Stanley’s fingers sorting through Bill’s hair continues, even though the two go still, as if Stanley’s voice would be found somewhere hiding in Bill. “That’s why I was quiet this week.” He clarifies.

“How sad do you get?” Bill asks. “Can you explain it to me?”

He shrugs, and for the first time in his life, he finds the words to explain. “I push people away. I know I do— Eddie tried for two weeks to try and talk to me freshman year, when we first became roommates. But I wouldn’t even try to befriend him back. And the only reason I didn’t room with Richie is because his habits bother me— I have OCD. But Eddie’s clean, he’s neat, and he’s nice— I should have been friends with him, but I wasn’t. I push people away because I’m afraid I’m going to _Stanley_ them up.”

“ _Stanley_ them up?”

He shrugs. “Hurt them.” He pauses, shutting his eyes. “I mean, you tried to be friends with me, and I pushed you away too, remember? I don’t deserve you, or Eddie, or Richie, or anyone.”

“Yes you do.” Bill sits up and puts a hand on his shoulder. “We’re your friends because we _like_ you, and we like spending time with you. And to be fair, you were right about me— I was totally trying to get into your pants,” Bill adds, and smiles when Stan laughs gently. “But you called me out and— and now I’m working on being a better person. You make me want to be a better person.” He moves his hand to Stan’s cheek, “You deserve to be happy, Stan.”

“I know,” Stan says, but takes Bill’s hand off of his cheek. He plays with Bill’s thin, calloused hands as he continues. “But I don’t always _know_ , you know? I get this voice in the back of my head, that tells me _hey, your friends hate you, and they’re not wrong to feel that way!_ —” He sighs, blinking furiously to stop from letting himself cry. Stan leans against the couch, head craning to stare at the white ceiling. Bill squeezes his hand—when did they start holding hands? Anyway, Stan squeezes back. “That voice, the one that says I’m stupid and worthless, I thought it’s something I’d grow out of.”

“Oh.” Bill nods, and takes a deep breath. Maybe Stan should have kept his mouth shut. What a fucking idiot, he shouldn’t have— “Okay. I have an idea.”

“What?”

“Well, you said it’s a voice in your head you hear?” Bill asks.

“Not like a _voice_ — I’m not crazy.” Stan says quickly. "Besides, I have my old therapist's number. If I get really bad, I can give her a call," he blushes suddenly, "you don't have to worry. It's not like I'm expecting you to just, to come in and save me. Cure me of this... thing. I just get sad sometimes. That's all. Nothing you need to save me from."

Bill makes a face, and pulls their hands to his mouth. He presses a kiss to each of Stanley's knuckles. "Look, I care about you, and I support you. If your thoughts make you feel like you're alone sometime, I just want to make sure you know that you're not. Okay?" He waits for Stan to nod, and when he does, he smiles gently. "If we find a way to distract you from those thoughts, maybe you won’t be as sad?” Stan nods. “So, what distracts you from these thoughts?”

Stan pauses, smiles, and looks at him. “I think talking to you helps.”

Bill smiles back, settling against him on the couch. “Well, looks like I’m staying forever.”

Stan bites his lip to stop himself from saying _yes, I’d like that very much._


	12. February 2 - 48 Days Before the Accident

* * *

 

_ im being serious stanley _

_ youre like the worst texter ever _

_ Says the one who doesn’t know how to capitalize his sentences. _

_ okay im lazy _

_ sue me _

_ thats not what im talking about _

_ Alright, go on then. Enlighten me on texting etiquette. _

_ well you end every sentence with a period and you never use smiley faces! _

_..So? _

_ so you always seem grumpy _

_ I’m always grumpy. What’s your point? _

_ no youre not, you and i both know that _

_ Okay, so you want me to stop using periods? _

_ not necessarily _

_ just use smiley faces or something, geez _

_ let me know that you like texting me _

_ I like texting you, Bill _

_ (: _

_ Is that better? _

_ very<3 _

  
  



	13. February 10 - 41 Days Before the Accident

They go on a walk because Georgie asks, but due to the bad weather, Georgie insists that he is held by Stan (not Bill, because “He got me sick last week!”). So Stan holds onto Georgie, and laughs when Georgie’s breath tickles his ear whenever he speaks into it. He’s a little too loud, and Stan winces, but smiles nonetheless. “Your hair is extra curly today.”

“Is it?” He shrugs, adjusting his grip on Georgie. “Must be the weather.”

“It’s pretty. Curly,” He repeats, and hides back in Stan’s shoulder.

Stan looks at Bill, who snorts and shrugs. “Oh,” Stan says. “Thank you.”

 

In the room, Stan offers to make the three of them hot chocolate, and Bill leans against the counter, watching him. Music fills the dorm (it’s Stan’s turn to pick tunes, so  _ Holding Out For A Hero  _ is sang loudly and off tune, but Stan wouldn’t have it any other way.) “Weirdo,” Stan mutters, bumping into Bill as he moves towards the microwave.

Bill blinks, scoffing as he struggles to keep from laughing. “How am I the weirdo? You made your hot cocoa with  _ milk _ —”

“It’s better that way!”

“—and then you brainwashed my brother into having it like that, too.” Bill huffs. “I knew you were too good to be true, Uris.”

Stan flushes, and opens his mouth to speak, but Georgie beats him to it. “Hey! That’s mean! Stan is good  _ and _ true! And his hair is curly!”

Bill rubs at his chin, before finally nodding, and digging into his pocket. “Yeah, you’re right, Georgie. Say, didn’t you have something for Stan in my dorm?” He looks through his keys and holds one out for Georgie to take. “Why don’t you go get it for him?”

Georgie nods and smiles at Stan before rushing to the door. “Be right back, Stan!”

Stan makes a pleased hum as he puts the glasses into the microwave. “I’m excited to see this surprise.”

Bill runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “I should let you know: he has a crush on you, you know. Just a small kid thing— probably my fault, since I’m always talking about you.” Bill laughs nervously. “Kind of funny, I was going to ask you about your plans for Valentine's’ Day today, but then Georgie told me about his plan to bring you a Valentine's’ Day gift—” he shrugs. “I didn’t want to break his heart and tell him I also have a vested interest in you.”

Stan raises a brow, and after setting the microwave to two minutes, he sits on the counter. “I’m flattered,” He begins, and then suddenly realizes what Bill said. He beckons Bill closer, “I’m filling in for Ben at the library, since he and Mike have a date.”

“Damn.” Bill frowns, inching closer. “I regret setting them up. I was going to ask you to dinner.”

“You got them together? I’ve been trying to get Ben to make a move on Mike since he told me about his crush,” Stan muses, bring a hand to Bill’s shoulder to flatten out the wrinkled fabric.

“What can I say? I’m like Cupid,” Bill smiles and shuts his eyes at the touch. “Now, what about you— Any guy in your life? Preferably anyone within two feet that I can set you up with?”

Stan shrugs, moving his hand from Bill’s shoulder to his cheek. “Well—” he pauses, and lines up his words with Bonnie Tyler’s, still blaring on repeat, “ _ I’m holding out for a hero _ .”

Bill’s grin now exposes his tiger-grin teeth, and he shakes his head in disbelief. He chuckles as he leans closer, placing his hands on the countertop on either side of Stan’s legs. “You’re ridiculous. And it’s ridiculous that I can’t spend Valentine’s Day with you.”

“Going out on Valentine’s Day is so basic.” Stan tells him. “We’re better than that.”

“Wow, okay, hipster.” Bill scoffs, before sighing. “As long as our story ends with a happy ending, I don’t mind waiting.”

“I’m pretty sure it does,” Stan murmurs quietly. “I do feel honored, by the way— two brothers who are into me? It sure boosts my ego. Makes me feel like a pretty princess or something.”

 

Bill moves to stand in between Stan’s knees, and suddenly they’re closer than they’ve ever been. A single strand of hair has fallen out of Stan’s ponytail, and Bill carefully tucks the golden strand behind his ear. As he speaks, his eyes stay on Stan’s lips. “You’re a beautiful princess, Stanley.”

Stan smiles, and thinks back to when he first met Georgie; he imagined his mysterious older brother to wear a gold halo over his head. And now, when he looks deep into Bill’s eyes, he can see the warm ring of gold stand out amongst the sea of blue in his pupils. Stan’s eyes dip down to Bill’s lips as he instinctively licks his own. Things are moving fast— or maybe they’re slowing down. But Stan is both eager to close the gap between them, and nervous to make the first move. Bill brings his hand to Stan’s cheek, as if he read Stan’s thoughts and was trying to say  _ it’s okay.  _ Stan closes his eyes and memorizes the feeling of Bill’s cool minty breath on his face.

They don’t kiss because they’re interrupted by Georgie banging on the door. Stan’s hands, which somehow found their way around Bill’s torso, fly to his lap, as Bill swears and makes for the door.

“Surprise!” Georgie yells, holding out the drawings of sunflowers and a big box of chocolates for Stanley to take.

Stan kneels down and takes the gifts, before hugging Georgie and kissing his forehead. “Thank you, Georgie. I love them. I’ll hang the drawings on the refrigerator, okay?”

Georgie nods, before going to the microwave to get his hot chocolate. “Hey— they’re cold again!”

Bill clears his throat awkwardly. “Yeah, we must’ve not heard the timer.” He says, and restarts the clock after Georgie puts his cup back in. “Hey— weren’t those chocolates supposed to be for your teacher?”

“Stan is way more important than Mrs. Keller!!” Georgie blushes.

 


	14. February 11 - 40 Days Before the Accident

Bill comes over for dinner on February 11th because Stan’s busy on the 14th. Actually, he gets the idea from Eddie, who spends the day with Richie due to their conflicting schedules as well. They don’t establish verbally that it’s a Valentine’s Day date, but Bill shows up with takeout and his signature red plaid shirt (although the snapback has been discarded— Stan can tell that Bill’s styled his hair, and has since run his hands through it out of nervousness). They eat it in the living room with their feet on the table; Stan’s chocolates from Georgie sit there, untouched.

“I’m not a big chocolate person,” Stan shrugs, leaning on Bill’s shoulder. “I’ll get through them eventually— unless you want to share them?”

Bill nods, sitting up and opening the box. He grabs two identical chocolates and hands one to Stanley. “Cheers,” he says, and clinks them together.

Stan laughs, and holds the chocolate to Bill’s lips. “Here,”

Bill quirks a brow, and his lips pull into his regular smirk. But now, and for some time now, his eyes are light with the genuinity of his intentions, no longer hidden underneath his overconfident facade. Stan doesn’t quite understand the meaning behind Bill’s blush, so he just decides on referring to them as _love_ . _Love._ The word brings a blush to his cheeks, and it matches the same hue on Bill’s cheeks. Bill prods the piece of chocolate against Stan’s pursed lips, and he smiles.

 

Stan loves Eddie, he really does, but in this moment he hates him, honestly. “Oh!” Eddie says, closing the door behind him. Bill and Stan blink at him, curled up together on the couch. “I didn’t think you’d still be here. But that’s okay! It’s nice to see you, Bill.”

“Hey Eddie,” Bill greets him casually, using the hand around Stan’s waist to wave.

“Hello, Bill!” Eddie says, and sits on the recliner. “What are you guys watching?”

Stan shrugs. “I don’t even know, honestly. Some dumb scary movie Bill’s making me watch.”

“It’s called _the ABCs of Death_ and it’s art, okay? Twenty-six letters, twenty-six directors, twenty-six different forms of death.”

“That sounds dumb.” Eddie says, before looking at them bluntly. “Where are your hands?” He asks, eyes narrowing. Stan and Bill reluctantly untangle their fingers and hold up their hands for Eddie to see.

Eddie nods, pleased. “I couldn’t see them under the blanket.”

“Oh.” Bill says.

“Um.” Stan says.

Eddie continues anyway. “Sorry, Bill. I’m sort of a stickler when it comes to that kind of thing. Do you know how much bacteria spreads through handjobs? And don’t get me started on sex—”

Bill chokes on his saliva and Stan shoots upright, sending Eddie daggers through his eyes. “— Anyway,” Eddie gets up from the seat. “I’m going back to Richie’s room. Night you guys!”

“Night.” Bill says weakly.

The dorm is very quiet now. “You have that exam tomorrow morning, right?”

Stan swallows, before finally settling back into Bill’s side. “Yeah. At six.”

Bill checks the clock on the wall. “It’s nearly midnight. You probably need sleep, huh?”

Stan sighs, but nods, and they stand up. “I wouldn’t mind staying up longer, though.”

“Well,” Bill says, heading towards the door. “I mind, because you’ve been studying for this test for two weeks, and I’d hate for you to blow it because of me.”

Stan opens the door for him as Bill slips his shoes on. Halfway out the door, he stops, and Stan meets him there, in the middle of the doorway. Half of Bill’s face is illuminated with the yellow fluorescents of the hallway, and the other is sculpted out of blue tones and radiate from the TV. Both of his eyes are different shades of the same blue, and both are transfixed on Stan in a way that makes his heart race. “Goodnight, Stan.”

“Goodnight, Bill.” Stan says.

Bill pauses, before quickly pressing his lips to Stan’s cheek. “Happy Valentine’s.” He says softly, and heads towards his room.

“Wait—” Stan grabs his wrist and stops him. Then, Stan leans forward and closes the gap between them. “Happy Valentine’s.” He whispers.

Bill’s face erupts in splotchy pinks and reds, and his tongue darts out over his bottom lip. He grins, wider and brighter than Stanley has ever seen, and winks before turning back and heading to his room.

* * *

_ eddie definitely stopped by to spy on us because he and richie were talking about us cuddling on the couch _

_ I hate him. _

_ no you dont lol _

_ eddie said we looked cute _

_ I hate him a little less. _

_ Describe me. _

_ what? _

_ You said you spent a lot of time thinking about  _ _ words and how to describe people. _

_ Describe me. _

_ thats so cheesy lmao _

_ youll laugh at me _

_ No I won’t, Bill. _

_ Please? _

_ do you really want me to? _

_ Yes. _

_ Attachment: One Image _

_ i wrote this out and im too lazy to type it again _

_ ta da _

_ Remember when I said I was holding out for a hero? _

_ yeah? _

_ You’re my hero. Thank you. _

_ <3 _

_< 3_  
 


	15. February 15 - 37 Days Before the Accident

 

* * *

 

  _So Richie brought me a whole fucking bouquet of tulips (yellow ones! My favorites !!), and Greta’s boyfriend didn’t even bring her any so I was like ha fuck you !! And my shift went late, so Richie was waiting there for three fucking hours !! I get out and I’m in still in my scrubs and I’m sweaty and tired and gross and he’s there with his dumbass grin and he tells me Happy Valentines Day and he kisses me as if I don’t look like shit !! And I was like “Richie, it’s not even Valentine’s Day anymore” you know, since it was past midnight, but Richie said that he didn’t care, and he wanted to hear about how my day went, so we went to his dorm and we just talked and I fell asleep on him and it was fucking adorable Stanley !! I love him so much !!_


	16. February 24 - 27 Days Before the Accident

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust you again, William Bailey Denbrough!”

“Geez, you’ve been watching too many of mom’s soap operas.” Bill rolls his eyes.

Georgie elbows him. “But you kissed Stanley! And you knew about my—” he glances at Stanley, who is suddenly very interested in the edge of the coffee table. “C-R-U-S-H on Stan!”

“Smart, George. I doubt Stan knows how to spell the word cru—” Georgie jumps from Stan’s lap onto Bill’s, covering his mouth. After a moment he yelps, and wipes his hand on Bill’s cheek. “He licked me!!” Georgie pouts, crawling back onto Stan’s lap and pouting.

“Don’t worry about him, Georgie. Bill’s a loser.” Stan says, ruffling Georgie’s hair and leaning his chin against the smaller boy’s head. Bill gasps, before also pouting. Stan winks at him— not nearly as nicely as Bill’s classic wink— but it still causes Bill’s pout to break into a small smile.

“Yeah— he sleeps with his socks on!”  Georgie mumbles. Stan laughs, and Georgie continues. “And… and he still stutters sometimes!”

“I’ve never heard him stutter,” Stan raises a brow. “But even so, that’s not a bad thing, Georgie.”

“Only when I’m really sleepy, or particularly into a game of baseball. Or scared,” Bill shrugs, scratching the back of his neck.  “And I sleep with socks on because my feet get cold!”

“He’s a dog person!” Georgie points out.

“What are you?”

Georgie pauses. “I dunno— what are you?”

“Probably a bird person.” Stan chuckles.

“Me too! We both love birds! But he— he doesn’t! He’s a _bird hater!_ ”

“I never said that—”

“I’m the better Denbrough!” Georgie says, tilting his head to look up at Stanley.

“But Georgie— those things are kind of endearing.” Stan admits. Bill’s ears turn pink, eyes wide, and Stan stops himself from pointing out that his dopey flustered faces are endearing too.

“Really?” Georgie makes a face. “I don’t think it’s endearing.”

“Well, I think it is.” Stan repeats, smiling wider now.

“When he stutters, he says this one phrase over and over again— it’s annoying.”

“What’s the phrase?”

“He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts.”

“Isn’t that—”

“ _Donovan’s Brain_ , yeah.” Bill nods. “I told you I’m a horror movie fanatic.”

“See? That’s not annoying. It’s cute.”

Georgie makes fake throwing-up noises.

Bill rolls his eyes. “He’s just jealous.”

Georgie’s noises continue.

“Come on, G. It was just a kiss. I haven’t even asked him out,” Bill winks at Stan. “Yet.”

“Don’t you dare ask him out!” Georgie yells. “I dare you _not_ to ask him out!”

“What if I double-dog dare him to ask me out?” Stan interjects.

Bill snaps his fingers, pointing at Stan and nodding. “Yeah, what if he does that, G?”

“I _infinity_ -dog dare you to not ask him out!”

Bill clicks his tongue. “Damn. That’s too bad. Sorry, Stanley.”

Georgie smiles in victory. “Can we watch a movie now?”

Georgie makes Bill set up the movie, allowing for him and Stan to stay cuddled up together on the couch. When Bill moves to sit next to Stan, Georgie crawls over him and smooshes in between them. When Bill stretches his arm around Stan’s waist, Georgie pushes Bill away, huffing and snuggling up closer next to Stanley. “So,” Stan murmurs quietly, after checking to make sure Georgie was sound asleep. “William Bailey Denbrough?”

Bill turns red. “After my great-grandfather.” He mumbles, squeezing Stan’s waist.

* * *

_ am i really not your fave denbrough? _

_ Do you really think I’d choose your ten year old brother over you? _

_ Because you’re absolutely right. _

_ </3 _

_ why is it that when i have a crush on you its dumb,  _ _ but when he has a crush on you its cute? _

_ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Night, Bill. _

_ did you just ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ me? _

i cant believe you just _ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ed me _

_ stanley uris you will be the death of me _

_< 3_  



	17. March 11 - 12 Days Before the Accident

It’s fairly obvious that Bill’s just trying to show off, but when he invites Stan and Georgie to help him practice on the indoor baseball field, how can Stanley say no? After all, last time they went out for lunch with Georgie, Stan mentioned being captain on his high school team, which prompted Bill to suggest they join him in going to the indoor field and playing a game of ball.

They realize on the way to the facility that it is hard to play a game of baseball with only three players, but they decide on a pretty foolproof plan— Stan will pitch, Georgie will play outfield, and Bill will bat. Then they’ll switch when they get tired, or when Georgie decides he wants to bat or something.

“I should warn you, I haven’t played played much since high school.” Stan says, tossing the softball— they decided to use softballs because Georgie likes them more than regular balls. It reminds him of high school, of meeting Richie after school for a quick smoke, and feeling whole. He doesn’t really know when he stopped feeling complete, but when he looks at Bill he feels put together again.

“That’s okay, I’ll go easy on you,” Bill smirks cockily, twirling the bat in his hands and getting in position behind home plate.

That damn smirk. The same smirk that used to infuriate Stan, now infuses him with a sense of yearning. Maybe it’s because, if he really tries, he can remember how those lips tasted against his own. Stan stretches down to touch his toes, before rolling his shoulder a few times. He throws a fastball while Bill’s staring at his ass.

Strike 1. “That’s hardly fair.”

Stan shrugs, winking at him. “I’ll go easy on you, then.”

“Fuck, you’re really hot, you know that?” Bill says, tossing the ball back.

“What are you saying?” Georgie yells from second base. “I can’t hear you!”

“I said Stan’s very pretty!” Bill shouts back.

“He’s not pretty!” Georgie shouts. “He’s beautiful!”

“Damn right,” Bill nods, and Stan blushes before throwing a curveball.

Strike 2. “Okay, really now?” Bill groans, grabbing the ball. He leans on the bat and shakes his head in disbelief. “Either I should’ve practiced more during my off season, or Stanley Uris was lying about his skill in the sport.”

“I played in high school!” Stan laughs, because pausing. “Okay, maybe I was captain. And maybe I went to a Southern High School Baseball Conference.”

“Through NHSBA? I went to the one for the Northeast,” Bill sighs. “Imagine if we’d met in high school.”

“Emo Bill? I would’ve loved to meet him.”

Bill turns red and throws the ball back. “Okay, play ball.”

Bill hits the second ball— another curveball— and makes it all the way home. When he gets there, he does a victory dance that makes Stan laugh.

“Switch?”

“I’ll switch for you any day,” Bill winks, blowing a small kiss as he saunters towards the pitchers mound.

“You’re cocky when you play ball,” Stan points out, and suddenly Bill’s lanky, standing straight, and fiddles with the seams in the soft ball.

“Because I’ve worked my ass off to get good at the sport” Bill tells him. “It’s not a cocky facade, it’s the real me. I promise.”

Stan grins, winking back. “I know it’s the real you, Bill. And it’s really hot.”

Bill laughs and grins back, biting his lip as he prepares to throw the ball. “Alright, let’s keep it PG, Uris.”

Stan scoffs. “Look who’s talki—not fair.” The ball hits the fence behind Stan, and he doesn’t waste time going to grab it. He does, however, take his time bending over and grabbing the ball, and when he looks behind him, Bill’s staring again. “Gotcha.”

“Oh, you’ve got me, alright.” Bill licks his lips.

Stan rolls his eyes, tosses the ball back and they continue.

 

Within the next hour, Bill’s discarded his shirt, and his sweats hang dangerously low on his hips. Stan would feel guilty staring, but he makes amends by only staring when Georgie’s looking the other way.

Stan’s not as good with the bat, but apparently Bill’s not as good pitching, because  Stan’s able to make it home twice (which ties up their scores now, 4-4) before his third out. He’s got one out left, however, and with Georgie yawning and suggesting they go back soon, Stan is ready to make this last one count.

He hits the ball and runs. As he passes first, he thinks about the strangely mischievous glint in Bill’s eyes as he threw that ball. Did he throw the game? No, he wouldn’t. Would he?

Passed second, he hears Bill shout for the ball, and then as he runs to third, he gets it. Bill’s there, charging towards him with the ball in his hand. By now, most of the actual rules of the game have been discarded, so Stan decides _fuck it_ and runs in the opposite direction. Bill laughs, jogging after him, and soon Georgie’s chasing him too.

Stan’s tired, they’ve been playing for a few hours and he hasn’t run since senior year, okay? So Bill easily catches up to him and lifts him in the air. Stan shrieks and laughs when he’s let down, but drags Bill down to the floor with him when he doesn’t find his footing.

“I guh-got you!” Bill says excitedly, pinning him down on the fake grass. Bill’s hovering over Stan, breathing heavily, and Stan really hopes that Georgie is looking the other way, because he’s definitely checking out the older Denbrough right now.

They’re both quiet, and Bill’s eyes widen as he recognizes his flaw. “Yeah, you’ve got me.” Stan says, hand finding its way to the back of Bill’s neck. Bill grins, looking down at Stan’s lips, and Stan beckons him closer.

“Hey! That’s gross!” Georgie whines, appearing next to them.

Bill quickly stands up and helps Stanley up as well. As Bill puts on his shirt, Stan frowns. “It _is_ gross. I’m covered in your sweat.”

“It’s kind of hot,” Bill shrugs, sneaking a kiss to Stan’s cheek. Stan makes a disgusted noise and pretends to wipe it off.

* * *

  _im a little mad i never got to see you in baseball pants, you know_

_I can’t wait to see you in yours soon._

_first game is in a month_

_youll be there, right?_

_Of course._

_good_

_a little birdie told me youd be asked out at that game_

_so long as the black bears win, of course(;_

_I’ll have to wait a full month?_

_ive been dying to ask you out since i first saw you, stanley uris_

_so dont you dare talk to me about waiting_

_When you first saw me?_

_yeah, you brought richie to our dorm when we got wasted freshman year_

_i thought you were the most beautiful person id ever seen_

_It’ll be a long month of waiting, but I think it’ll be worth it._

_Georgie and I will be screaming the loudest for you in the stands._

_just because i havent asked you out doesnt mean we cant makeout btw(;_

_Goodnight, loser._

_wow okay_

_night <3 _

_ <3 _


	18. March 23 - The Day of the Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: a car accident, injuries, hospital, guilt, stuff relating to a car accident

Stan gets the call while he’s at dinner with Eddie and Richie. He doesn’t comprehend it right away, but when he finally hears the stammering, stuttering, gross sobbing that feels sticky in his ears, he wishes he could unhear it.

He slams a twenty down on the table and runs out of the restaurant. His jacket is still sitting on the chair in the small chinese restaurant, but he knows that Eddie will grab it for him. His phone is still clenched tight in his fist, and Stan can’t tell whether his eyes are watering from the cold as he runs, or from fear.

The words stay in his mind like a bullet in his head, and he feels like throwing up as he sees the bright red ER sign getting closer, its red color normally resembling safety, but now just reminding him of blood.

He doesn’t know where to go when he gets there, but it’s like a pull to Bill that he feels instead, and he finds his way to Bill like he does home, just pure instinct, pure memory. He finds Bill shaking across the waiting hall, clutching a small blanket around his shoulders and he’s talking to a police officer. Stan doesn’t move.

He  _ can’t _ move. He’s frozen. He sees the bloody bandage on Bill’s forearm, and the blood that has just begun to dry across his glabella. Bill’s looking around, towards the rooms mostly, but his eyes find Georgie’s across the room and Bill breaks down.

Stan makes his way to Bill and holds him. He still crying, tears quickly dampening Stan’s collar and shoulder, but Stan’s hands find Bill’s broad shoulders and he lets Bill crumple into him. The officer looms next to them like a reminder of the accident, and when Bill angles himself to talk to the officer, while keeping his head in Stan’s neck, Stan keeps his arms around Bill protectively.

“I still need the report, please.” The officer says gruffly.

“Wuh-wuh-we wuh- _ were _ cuh-cuh- _ coming _ huh-huh- _ home _ and I wuh—”

Stan carefully pulls Bill away from his neck and stands him up, holding his face with his hands. “Hey, breathe Bill.” He says. Bill closes his mouth and opens it, blubbering like a sad, dying trout. Stanley places a kiss to his forehead and holds his face tighter, looking him in his teary eyes. “ _ He thrusts his fists against the post and and still insists he sees the ghosts _ . Say it with me, Bill.”

Bill nods weakly, sniffling. “He thruh-thruh- _ thrusts _ his fis-sts aguh- _ gainst _ the poh-osts, and—” Stan runs his thumbs across Bill’s cheeks encouragingly following along with him patiently, “still insuh-insuh- _ insists _ he sees the ghoh- _ ghosts _ .”

“Again.” Stan says, and they repeat it again.

After a few times, Bill leans back into Stan, who accepts him and wraps his arms around him again. “I wuh-was driving, and Georgie wuh-was in the passenger seh-seat, and in an interseh- _ section, _ this cah-car, it cah-came out of nowuh-wuh-where, and it—” he chokes back another wave of tears. “Tuh-tee boned his suh-suh-side.”

Stan feels his heart break as Bill recites the report feebly. On the phone, he heard Bill sobbing out the words  _ Stan, I need you, ER, Georgie _ — but now, he feels his heart stop in his chest, and its pieces fall to his stomach like rocks, each heavier than the last.

 

They sit down in the waiting room for hours, and Stan holds Bill’s hand. Bill’s legs are draped over Stan’s, but he’s not crying anymore. He just stares at the door, waiting. Stan sighs, carefully tilting Bill’s chin to look at him, and when he does weakly, Stan purses his lips, gently nudging up a bandage that wraps around Bill’s forehead. There is a cut over Bill’s eyebrow, as well as a larger gash that has already started to bleed through the thin bandage. Stan’s afraid to look at the larger wound, so he instead thumbs a finger over the thin line of scarlet, already drying on Bill’s eyebrow. “This is going to scar,” he says weakly, but he keeps his hand on Bill’s cheek. 

Bill’s exhausted. His eyes are sunken in, like treasure at the bottom of the ocean, and his hands shake as they hold Stan’s other hand in his lap. He bites his lip, letting out a breathy whimper as shuts his eyes. “It should buh-be me in there,” he whispers.

Suddenly a doctor appears and Bill’s standing. He’s almost swaying, whether from his own pain, or just fear, and he staggers over towards the doctor.

“Your brother is going to be okay,” Bill nearly collapses into Stan again out of pure relief, but Stan catches him and props him up. Bill’s hyperventilating, gripping Stan’s thin t-shirt so tight, Stan feels his nails digging into his skin. “But he needs to sleep. Judging by the state you’re in, Mr. Denbrough” the doctor eyes Stan, quickly recognizing him as the more stable one at the moment. “Mr. Uris, I recommend you take Mr. Denbrough home.”

“No—”

“Georgie is in our Intensive Care Unit, and he is currently unconscious. I think it would be best for both of you if Mr. Denbrough gets some food and rest. You can talk with the nurse about contacting you when Georgie wakes up.”

Bill shakes his head, and the doctor sighs. “Sir, he’s been through a lot this evening— so have you— but I’m sure Georgie wants to wake up and see you awake, not passed out in the bed next to him.”

Bill bites his lip and looks at his shoes. Stan sighs, squeezes Bill’s hand, and nods. “Okay,” he says.

 

The nurse at the desk explains that because they’re rather swamped this particular evening, Bill, who they’d usually prefer to keep overnight to continue watching, will be sent home. “He’s been treated for a minor concussion, so he should avoid harsh lights and loud noises. And he’ll probably have some headaches in the weeks to come— it’s just a small one, but here’s a pamphlet about concussions.” She hands it to him, and she studies Stan’s face. “You pick up Eddie sometimes, right? I’m Greta.”

“Greta,” Stan repeats. “Eddie’s very fond of you.”

She smiles, and writes down a number. “This is my cell. I’ll text you from here when I get updates on the kid, okay? And if you need to call, call this number. Our ER phone here goes to voicemail— unless you call 9-1-1, but that’s answered in the police dep—”

“Okay,” Stan nods. “Thank you.”

“Usually, Bill would stay overnight, but like I said, we’re a little busy— call Eddie if you need something. He can be like your cute, little, bedside nurse!” She laughs, and now Stan realizes why Eddie hates her. The clock in the waiting room chimes midnight.


	19. March 24 - 1 Day After the Accident

_OMG that’s terrible !! Here, I’ll stay with Richie for the night, I’m sure Bill needs privacy. They checked him for a concussion right ??_

_Yeah._

_Well sometimes those things take a while, and I don’t trust Greta with those basic tests. Text me the *second* you feel something’s wrong, okay?_

_Okay._

_Tell Bill me and Richie are thinking of him and Georgie < / 3 _

 

The walk to his dorm is quiet, but as soon as they get in, Stan holds Bill again. Bill can’t cry, he’s cried too much in the past few hours. But he still shakes and whimpers as if he’s crying, and it makes Stan’s heart break all the same.  He lets himself cry in front of another person for the first time in a long, long time, but Stan can’t imagine _not_ crying, when he thinks of the pain Bill and Georgie both went through that evening.

“Hey,” Stan murmurs, holding his face again. “Why don’t I run a bath for you, okay?”

Bill nods, and follows Stan to the bathroom. He sits on the counter, not daring to look at himself in the mirror, as Stan fills the tub and reaches for his bubble bath. “Is vanilla okay?”

“Yeah,” Bill whispers weakly.

Stan nods and smiles, relieved to hear his voice, and adds the bubble bath solution to the water. Bill wordlessly strips his clothes, and Stan politely looks away as he steps into the water. Stan sits at the edge of the tub, using his best shampoo as he gently massages Bill’s scalp. Bill shuts his eyes and sighs letting his head rest against the cool porcelain of the tub. “You’re guh-guh-good at this.”

“I wash Eddie’s hair when he’s stressed out,” Stan tells him simply, “and in middle school, Richie’s water shut off for a month, so he used to come over and I’d offer to wash his hair whenever he was down.”

Bill smiles softly and nods, letting Stan rinse through his hair with gentle water. “It wuh-wuh-was my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Stan sighs. “The jackass who—” he clears his throat. “He said it was his fault. He ran a red light. You didn’t do anything wrong, Bill.”

“Buh-buh-but— if I did everyth-thuh-thing, why did Georgie—” he doesn’t finish his thought, but he doesn’t have to.

“Bill, sometimes, you can do everything right, and things still don’t go your way. Sometimes— sometimes terrible things happen, and it fucking sucks. But you can’t blame yourself.”

A tear rolls down Bill’s cheek, but he nods. It’s all he can do.

 

Stan gets two updates from Greta:

  1. Georgie has two broken ribs and a broken arm,
  2. He’s still unconscious, and should wake up in two hours



 

“Two fuh-fucking hours?” Bill frowns. “I should buh-be there.”

“The doctor said you should get rest.” Stan sighs. “It’s 12:50. We’ll be there at 2:15, okay?”

Bill nods, but his frown deepens. “I’m stuh-stuttering again.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Stan says, and hands him a bowl of fruit and water. Bill drinks down the water, and Stan’s ready with a pitcher.

“I suh-sound ridiculous,” Bill huffs, “and I’ll huh-have to go through spuh-spuh-speech therapy again.” He scrubs a hand down his face, sniffing angrily. “God, wuh-why am I even crying, this is stuh-stuh-stupid!”

“Hey,” Stan puts a hand on his back, rubbing small circles into the tense muscle of Bill’s shoulder. “You’ve had a crazy night. You’re allowed to cry, Bill. And I think your stutter is cute,” Stan confesses, placing a chaste kiss to the top of Bill’s hair.

“Ruh-right.” Bill says, unconvinced, and looks up at Stan. “Stan, I— thank yuh-you.”

“Hey,” Stan says, and leans forward to press a careful kiss to Bill’s forehead. “I’m here for you.”

There’s a second where Bill almost smiles, but it’s replaced by a sober look of remorse and regret. “Georgie shuh-should have been in the buh-back. Not the pah-passengers’ seat.”

“Bill—” Stan sighs.

“I’m nuh-not going to sleep. I knuh-know the doctor said to, but,”

“I didn’t think you would, Bill.” Stan says. “We’ll stay up together.”

“Thank you,” Bill repeats.

“I’m here for you.” Stan repeats too.

 

Stan calls Bill’s parents because Bill gets a headache from the bright phone screen. They sit on the sofa, Bill wrapped around Stan,  and Stan holds the phone so that Bill can hear his parents.

“Hullo?” The tired voice says.

“Mr. Denbrough? This is Stanley Uris, I’m calling on behalf of your son, Bill Denbrough, and Georgie Denbrough?”

“Yes?”

“There—” Stan pauses. “There has been a car accident on campus.”

Mr. Denbrough is quiet. “ _What_ ?” There’s another voice, feminine, and Bill whispers the word _mom_ to Stan as they hear Mr. Denbrough’s side of the campus. “—Accident —Billy and Georgie. I’ll ask. What happened?”

“Bill was driving with Georgie, they were going back to Bill’s dorm, and this driver— the driver ran a red light and hit the car on Georgie’s side.”

“Oh my god, is Georgie okay?”

Stan squeezes Bill. “He’s broken a few ribs and his arm. But he’s okay.”

“And Bill?”

“Bill has a minor concussion.” Stan says, his hand finding Bill’s cheek.

Mr. Denbrough repeats the information back to his wife, and suddenly both of their voices can be heard through the phone weakly. “Oh my god. We— _fuck_.” Mr. Denbrough says.

“We’re in Canada at the moment— Zack, I’ll buy plane tickets home right away.” Mrs. Denbrough says.

Bill frowns. “I cuh-cuh-can’t hear them very wuh-well because of this duh-damn thing.”

Stan nods, brushing his fingers over Bill’s ear, hidden behind the bandage that wraps around his ear. As Bill continues to mutter about the dumb gauze around his cut ear, Mr. Denbrough says something that sets Stan off. “ _I can’t believe Bill would be so careless again_.”

Stan pauses, before detangling his limbs from Bill and storming into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He paces through the room, only stopping to angrily making his bed as he keeps the phone sandwiched between his head and his shoulder. “Now listen here, Mr. Denbrough.” Stanley seethes. “I don’t understand how someone could say anything so _inconsiderate_ . You should be lucky your sons are both _alive_ . What if Bill wasn’t okay, and that was the last thing you ever said about him?” Stan hisses, “Bill is trying his hardest to keep it together, and frankly, so am I. You should be _ashamed_ of yourself. Bill is a great brother to Georgie, he loves him, and he’d give anything in the world to switch places with him right now. Don’t you think he feels bad enough as it is— and you should be thanking your lucky stars that he didn’t hear your little comment there,” Mr. Denbrough is quiet.  “So here’s what you’re going to do, _Zack._ I am going to bring the phone back to Bill, and you are going to tell your son that you’re not mad, it’s not his fault, and that you love him, and you’re going to mean every damn word of it. Okay?”

His voice practically echoes through the dorm, but he doesn’t care. Mr. Denbrough answers, “yes, of course”, and Stanley heads back to the living room, sitting down next to the very confused Bill and handing him the phone. “Your father has a few words for you.”

Bill takes the phone and holds it to his ear. “Yuh-yeah? Uhuh, Yuh-yeah, I am. I knuh-know—” He pauses, and lets out a shaky breath. “Oh-kuh-kay. I luh-love you too.” He stares at it for a long minute, before handing it back to Stanley. “He wuh-wants to say suh-something to you.”

“Hello?” Stan asks.

“Look, Stanley—” Mr. Denbrough sighs. “I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think I’m a shitty father. I just—”

“Of course not.” Stan says quickly.

“Georgie talks about you a lot.” Mr. Denbrough says suddenly. “He says you’re taking care of Bill. And I can see that you are. I really appreciate that. Thank you for looking out for my boys, Stanley.”

Stan blushes, and reaches for Bill’s hand. “I think they’ve helped me more than I’ve helped them, sir. But thank you.”

There’s a pause. “Alright, thank you Sharon— My wife bought tickets home, we’ll be there tomorrow morning. I’ll see you then, Stanley.”

“Goodbye, sir.”

He hangs up. Bill raises a brow. “So?”

“They’ll be here in the morning.”

“Whuh-what did my dad suh-say to you?” Bill frowns. “To muh-make you leave luh-like that?”

Stan presses a quick kiss to Bill’s cheek and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

They decide to sit on Stan’s bed and wait out the clock there. Despite insisting that he wouldn’t Bill falls asleep on Stan’s shoulder, and Stan cards through his hair gently, watching him sleep for the short time they have. He’s heavenly like this, Stan almost wants to wake him up and tell him that. He wants to tell Bill that it’s okay, he wants to tell Bill that he loves him, and he wants to kiss him, but all of those thoughts that race in his mind stop when Bill squeezes his hand, even in his sleep. It’s strange, Stanley has never felt like he’s had power in his life, but now— as Bill clings to him— Stan feels strong, and he holds Bill with confidence, because Bill has taught him that, maybe he’s always been strong, deep down. Now, it’s his turn to be strong for Bill, and that thought alone is enough to drown out the thoughts in his mind, even the ones that spew self-doubt and self-hatred, telling Stanley he’s worthless. In fact, these thoughts of hope and strength—borrowed from Bill, or maybe inherited, like these incredible, glorious thoughts rubbed off of him—replace the shrill voice of hate in his head, and he can’t help but pressing a kiss to Bill’s lips after he reads the text from Greta.

“Hm? Hello,” Bill yawns, blinking at Stanley. “I thuh-thought you wuh-wuh-would wuh-wake me up if I fuh-fell asleep.”

“You look like you needed the rest— It’s 2:00. Should we go see Georgie?”

Bill pauses, and smiles. Even with his tired, reddened, puffy eyes, and tear stained cheeks, and scrapes littering his face, it’s a smile of hope. “Yeah,” Bill says. “Let’s guh-go.”

 

As they walk back to the ER, Bill’s excitement falters. “Wuh-what if he hates me?”

“He won’t,” Stan says, squeezing Bill’s waist supportively.

Then, Bill begins to ramble, breathing quickening as he speaks. “Wuh-when I was in huh-high school, I wuh-was wuh-walking home with Georgie from the Quarry— Wuh-we’d go ah-and swim there— and wuh-we got stopped by a bully. And I ruh-ran, I thought Georgie wuh-was next to me, but he wuh-wasn’t, and—” Bill’s quiet. “He wuh-was missing for two weeks. They fuh-found him alone in the wuh-wuh-woods.” He says, voice hollow and empty. Stan thinks back to the icy _again_ that Mr. Denbrough added after so rudely commenting on the situation, and suddenly things make a little more sense. “He wuh-was alone, ah-and scared, and I luh-luh-left him— It wuh-was my fuh-fault then, too.”

Stan stops him, and holds his face. “Hey— Georgie didn’t hate you then, and he doesn’t hate you now, okay? You’re his big brother, and he _loves_ you, and he always will. No matter what happened in the past, or what happened tonight, or what will happen in years to come. He’s your brother, and you guys are family, and he will always love you. Okay?”

Bill laughs and nods, crying again. “He suh-sees you as a brother too, you knuh-know.”

“Well, I love him too. We’re a family.”

“Family,” Bill repeats, and brings a hand to Stanley’s hair, admiring a curl of Stanley’s golden hair as he rubs it between his fingers.

“Family.” Stanley confirms, and leans forward to peck him on the lips. “Now let’s go wait for Georgie wake up, okay?”

“Okay.” Bill says, and they hold hands as they enter the ER.

 

They get there at two-fifteen, so they wait for a good forty minutes before Greta lets both of them sneak into Georgie’s room. He’s still sleeping, but after another thirty minutes, he’s slowly blinking his eyes open.

“Huh-hey, Georgie.” Bill whispers, stroking his brother’s hair.

“Bill? You’re stuttering again.” Georgie comments sleepily.

“Yeah, I am,” Bill laughs, before biting his lip. “Georgie, I’m suh-suh-so sor-ruh-sorry.”

“Why?”

“Becuh-cause it’s my fuh-fault you’re—”

Georgie laughs, and it brightens the room. He closes his eyes, still tired, but then pats Bill’s hand on his cheek with his good, non-casted hand. “It’s not your fault, Bill. And—” Georgie points at the four pudding cups on the counter. “Look! I got _four_ pudding cups! Tonight is the best night ever!”

Bill laughs and crawls onto the bed to hug his younger brother, and Stan thinks to when he and Bill stole three extra cups of pudding on the way to Georgie’s room. “Hey, Stanny! Come join the hug party too!”

He doesn’t need much more convincing. It’s hard to fit the three of them on the bed, but they make it work. Stan doesn’t even realize how tired he is, until he watches both Bill and Georgie fall right back asleep. Then, as his head hits the pillow, he finds himself dreaming too.

 

True to Mr. Denbrough’s word, they’re in the Georgie’s room in the morning when they wake up, and Bill laughs when he sees Stan’s face turn bright red as he nervously introduces himself. “Good morning, sir. Ma’am,” Stan nods curtly. Bill smiles tiredly, pressing a kiss to Georgie’s forehead and rolling his eyes at Stan’s behavior. “My name is Stanley Uris.” He says, holding out his hand.

Mrs. Denbrough takes it first. “Please, call me Sharon. I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you, Stanley.”

Stan smiles at that, and then shakes hands with Mr. Denbrough. “Mr. Denbrough,” He says politely.

“Funny, you didn’t seem to mind calling me Zack yesterday—” Stan’s face goes pale, and Mr. Denbrough laughs with his gut, a trait he notices that Bill shares. “Oh, it’s alright, sport. It’s nice to meet you, Stan.”

Two additional appearances are made minutes later. “Hey!” Eddie smiles, backpack slung around his shoulder. Richie appears seconds later, holding backs of food. “We figured you guys would like a change of clothes, and—” he unzips the bag to reveal a small coloring book. “We saw this cute bird coloring book, I figured maybe Georgie would like to color in here?”

Georgie’s eyes widen and he sits up straighter— he would have surely leapt out of the bed, if not for Bill’s arm still wrapped around his shoulders. “Ooh! Yes please!!”

So Eddie, Richie and Stan crowd around the bed, coloring the birds (but not after introducing themselves— “Eds!” Georgie repeats after Richie, and Eddie frowns. Richie, however, slings a hand around Eddie’s side and presses a fat kiss to his temple. “I like this kid. Say, Eddie Darling, when are we gonna have a kid?”)

Stan’s eyes aren’t so focused on the coloring, but instead Bill carefully peeling himself off of the small hospital bed. He rolls his shoulders back, grimacing after the night of sleeping unevenly on the awkward bed. But he envelopes his parents in his arms, and Stan sighs as he sees Bill’s shoulder’s shake softly, head hidden in their embrace. But his mom presses a kiss to Bill’s head, and his father holds him upright and speaks to him with a stern but loving gaze. Bill’s back is to Stan, but Stan can still read how Bill’s shoulders slump, as if, for the first time in a long, long time, he was finally comfortable. Stan looks back to the bird that Georgie’s colored in with the help of Richie and Eddie. Stan can obviously determine who did what— Eddie’s colors are neat and precise, not unlike the actual bird’s muted colors. Richie’s colors are wacky and mismatched and outside of the lines, somehow he’s even managed to spill food on his parts of the drawing. Georgie’s coloring is neat like Eddie’s, but colorful and bright like Richie’s.

Georgie’s colored the face of the bird, and has added a black snapback to it’s crown. Then Stan recognizes the reddish brown colored feathers under the hat, and the piercing blue eyes. Bill’s arms wrap around Stan, and he rests his chin on Stan’s shoulder. Stan smiles, and kisses Bill. Georgie and Richie make fake-barfing noises (Eddie nudges Richie, but his soft-spot for children forces him to allow Georgie to continue with his fake retching). Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough don’t comment, but when Stan pulls away, he sees Mrs. Denbrough smiling warmly at him, and maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but Stanley is sure he sees Mr. Denbrough wink at him. But either way, all is good— better than good! Georgie asks them all to sign his cast, and after Stan writes his name, Bill writes his underneath it and adds a heart. And it’s sort of lame, really. The heart is lopsided, and Richie snorts and gives Bill a noogie (Eddie yells and pulls Richie off of him because “You idiot! He’s concussed!”). Stan cups Bill’s face with his hands. Bill’s eyes are strewn shut, jaw tight like steel. “Are you okay?”

Bill blinks a few times cautiously, before grinning softly at Stan. “I’m wonderful,” Bill says, and closes the gap between them again. Stan smiles against his lips.


	20. April 17 - 25 Days After the Accident

It’s warmer now, and things slowly wake up from their winter slumber. Maybe a little prematurely— Stan predicts another snowfall which will kill all of the new plantlife that brightens up their busy campus life.

“Geez, quit being so pessuh- _ pessimistic _ .” Bill mutters, pulling him closer and continuing to speak into his hair. “This wuh-was supposed to be romantic, not sad.”

Stan rolls his eyes, but allows himself to be pulled closer. “You’re warm,” Stan muses, sneaking to Bill’s jawline. Bill squeaks. Stan hums, proud of himself.

Bill nods, hand squeezing Stan’s waist contently. “I’m like a fuh-fuh-furnace.”

“Mm.”

“It’s tuh-too bad, with this baseball suh-season.” Bill sighs, “I think Lucas wuh-will be a good captain, but I wish I cuh-could play.”

“It’s because of your concussion. The doctors said you’ll be able to play in two months.”

“That’s mid season though— we’ll have already set our path for the season: success or fuh-fuh-failure.”

“Your stutter’s getting better,” Stan comments.

Bill nods proudly. “Yeah, my speech thuh-therapist is really nice.” He smiles and uses his free hand to gesture towards a large, green pine. “Luh-look at the size of this thing! Has it always been here?”

“Yeah.” Stan glances at it. “It’s an Eastern White Pine. Maine’s state tree.”

“How did you— Boy scouts?” Bill asks. Stan nods, and Bill snorts. “I fuh-forgot you’re a big dork.”

“I’m the dork?” Stan raises a brow.

“How ah-buh-bout this big tree is our truh-tree?”

“What do you mean? Like,  _ our _ tree?” Bill nods. “What will happen when they cut it down?”

“Wuh-we’ll have to break up or somethi-thing.” Bill shrugs, teasing voice finding its way into Stan’s hair once more.

Stan pulls away to look at him, but holds Bill’s hand around his waist. “Are we dating? You said you’d ask me out at your first baseball game, and you’ve never gotten around to it.”

“Fuh-fuck, you’re right. But that’s buh-because I haven’t pluh-played my first buh-baseball game this season, dumbass.” Bill stops, holding Stan’s hands in between them. “Duh-do you want to guh-go out to dinner? Luh-like a date this time?”

Stan pulls Bill down for a quick kiss, smiling against his lips. “I’d love to, Bill.”


	21. April 29 - 37 Days After the Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: sex scene

Now that they’re dating, Stan drives Bill on Friday after class to bring Georgie to the campus, and he drives Georgie back on Sundays. On this particular Sunday, Georgie insists on listening to music, and so Bill looks up Disney’s greatest hits, which blare through Stan’s shitty car speakers. But even with Stanley’s shitty car’s shitty speaker system, and despite Stan and Bill’s off pitched singing in the front of the car, Georgie falls asleep, and forty minutes after they left campus, Bill points to a small house and sighs. “Wuh-well, here’s home.”

Derry seems quiet, there’s a thin veil of mystery that encases the town, much like Bill once had. Stan wonders if, if he really wanted to, he could claw through the eerie shadows of the town until he found himself in a more welcoming one, much like he had with Bill. Or maybe, it’s through the ugly parts of the town, that Bill developed his more sensitive side. Stanley thinks back to his hometown, Atlanta, Georgia. About his parents. About the scary painting in his dad’s office. About his first girlfriend, Patty. But all of that seems so far away, like the past. And Stan would give up all of the past if it meant he could be with Bill in the future. Bill unclicks Georgie’s seatbelt and carries him towards the house, and Mrs. Denbrough greets them at the door. They keep conversations short, as to avoid waking the slumbering Georgie, and Stan follows Bill up to Georgie’s bedroom.

“Nice legos,” Stan says, looking around Georgie’s lego sets. Bill tucks Georgie in, kisses his cheek, and looks at the toy in question.

“I guh-got him the set for his buh-birthday.” Bill smiles, before tugging Stan’s wrist towards another room. “Here’s my old ruh-room.”

It reminds Stan a lot of Bill’s bedroom in his dorm. Neat, orderly, and the geeky parts that Stan loves are smooshed into a small corner of the room. Stan tosses a small dinosaur replica to Bill, who catches in and laughs. “When I wuh-was nine, my dad tuh-took me to the museum, and wuh-we learned about tri-triceratops.”

“Those are lame. Everyone knows pterodactyls are the coolest dinosaur.” Stan rolls his eyes, stepping towards Bill.

Bill sets the dinosaur on his dresser and shuts the door of his bedroom. “Not true.”

Stan opens his mouth to reply, something snarky on the tip of his tongue, but Bill grabs him and presses their lips together, and the words die on his mouth.

 

The twin sized bed feels surprisingly large when Stan finds himself falling backwards onto it. Stanley also didn’t really expect being so aroused at the idea of having sex in his boyfriends house, family a mere twenty feet away— or maybe he did, because before they left, Stan insisted on showering. Either way, Stan feels his dick twitch with anticipation as Bill hovers over him. Stan tangles his fingers in Bill’s hair and brings their mouths together.

“How many guys have you slept with before?” Stan asks into Bill’s mouth.

“Eight,” he answers quickly, honestly, and his grip on Stan’s hips tighten as he carefully slips his leg between Stan’s. “You?”

“One,” Stan breathes out, and Bill pulls away. Stan tilts his head upwards and Bill takes the cue to attack his neck, peppering it with kisses and sucking gently at the exposed skin as Stan continues, “I want you— Bill, please fuck me?” Bill groans and grinds into Stan, earning a soft moan and a laugh. “Do you have lube in your drawer?”

Bill nods, pupils blown, and reaches above Stan as he searches for the small bottle. From underneath him, Stan begins to shimmy out of his jeans and boxers; Bill tugs them off and tosses them to the side, before slicking up his finger with the lube and pressing it to pink ring of tight muscle. “It’s going to hurt muh-more like this— wuh-with you on your back,” Bill breathes. “Do you wuh-want to flip over? So it wuh-will hurt less?”

Stan arches his back into the touch, but shakes his head. “I want to see you, Bill.”

Those words send shock waves to Bill’s dick, which aches in his jeans. Bill pushes against the ring of muscle and watches how Stanley reacts; his eyes are shut, but his jaw is slack and a quiet moan escapes as he rolls into the touch. “You’re fingers are thicker than mine, Bill.” Stan can’t help but babble as Bill slides the finger in and out. Stan watches Bill now too, and he can watch the thoughts reel in Bill’s mind (maybe Bill’s thinking about Stan fingering fingering himself in his bed, biting his knuckle to keep from waking Eddie). Bill bites his lip to keep from groaning as he nods.

“Fuck, Bill.” Stan gasps when Bill adds his middle finger. Stan watches with a dazed expression as he watches Bill’s fingers work in and out of his body; his dick throbs embarrassingly against his stomach. Bill adds another, and Stan can see why as Bill moves his hand from Stan’s hip and brings it to his jeans, unzipping them and kicking them to the side. Bill holds his own length in his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, earning an alluring hum as he struggles to keep his noises low.

“You’re quiet,” Stan remarks, tilting Bill’s jaw up to press kisses along the sharp bone. Bill groans, and rolls his hips at the peppering kisses on his jawline. Stan slowly makes his way to Bill’s lips and takes his lower lip in between his teeth.

Bill laughs and purrs lightly, before kissing Stan quickly and pressing their foreheads together. “We’re at my puh-parents’ house. Can’t be luh-loud.”

“Does that turn you on? Fucking me in your parents’ house?” Stan asks.

Bill answers by adding another finger. Stan bites Bill’s lip again, a high moan dying against his lips. Stan can taste blood, but when Bill pulls away to inspect his lip, he only looks hungry for more.

“Bite your shirt, baby.”

Stan whimpers at the use of the pet name. “Don’t call me that,” he whines, but takes the end of his t-shirt in his mouth anyway.

“I think you luh-like it,  _ princess _ .”

Stan shivers, eyes half lidded as he moves against Bill’s fingers. Bill pulls them out soon, and wipes them on his thigh, before reaching for the lube and a condom. After putting on the condom and lubing it up, Bill reaches out to stroke Stan. Stan cries out quietly from behind his t-shirt, “You’ve got a nice dick, Uris.” He hums, scooting closer and spreading his legs apart.

“Want me to fuck you sometime?” Stan mumbles, filthy words muffled underneath the fabric.

Stan watches Bill’s reaction, and begins to imagine the scenario as well; Stan holding his legs apart the same way Bill does, and using him the same way Bill is about to. The idea makes his dick throb in his hand. “Let’s just focus on what’s happening right now,” Bill says in a low tone. He didn’t stutter just then, and that realization makes Stan shudder again with desire.

Bill places a soft kiss against Stan’s forehead before he inches inside. Immediately, Stan begins to tense, but Bill watches him chew at the piece of shirt in his mouth; he inhales sharply through his nose and shuts his eyes, and Bill stills. “You feel so big there,” Stan breathes out, dropping the piece of wet fabric.

Bill laughs, bringing the piece back to Stan’s mouth (but not before kissing him again). “You sure know how to buh-boost a guy’s ego,” he muses, before continuing to push forward into the unknown territory. “How’s that?”

Stan answers with a muffled moan, eyes blinking open. Tears well at the sides, and Bill moves to pull out, but Stan’s legs wrap around him, heels hooking and keeping him in place. He can’t speak, but he nods.

“Feels good?” Bill licks his lips, relishing in each teary eyed nod that Stan offers him. “You feel good, princess?”

The pulsing heat around Bill’s dick seems to drive him inside, and he slowly slides out, before carefully thrusting back in. Stan’s eyes flutter closed again, thighs tensing around Bill so that he does it again, and again, and again until he’s maintained a steady rhythm. Bill holds Stan’s leg to the side to get a better angle, and grips the back of his other thigh with a grip that will leave a bruise.

Part of Stan wishes they were in his dorm, or Bill’s, or even Bill’s car, so he could be loud, and hear the words and moans that he knows that Bill is trying to quiet down. But Stan takes what he can get, and watches how Bill’s exposed skin blooms with splotches of pinks and reds, bitten moans, eyes narrowed and focused; static buzzes from Stan’s chest and pools in his gut and he watches Bill.

“Fuck,” Bill says, and pushes their foreheads together again.

Stan releases the balled up edges of his shirt and crushes their lips together, tears finally falling and smearing against Bill’s cheeks as he rambles into Bill’s lips. “Please, Bill— oh, please oh, oh, oh  _ please _ , Bill.”

“Use your words, princess.” Bill bites back, and kisses Stan again.

“I need this, Bill, I need you— please, I need—” he breaks off into another quiet moan, and Bill swallows it.

“I need you too, Stanley. You have no idea how long I’ve wuh-waited to do this,” Bill rambles too, and for the first time in his life, he genuinely means it. This isn’t just some one night stand in college. This isn’t him finding another lonely person and using them to distract himself. This is him and Stanley, and he loves it. He loves him.

“Show me how long you’ve waited,” Stan breathes out, voice like velvet and sending a jolt to Bill’s dick. Bill places the wet edges of the shirt back into Stan’s mouth and kisses his flushed cheeks.

Bill hikes Stan’s knee up higher, increasing his pace. Stan’s hands in Bill’s hair tighten, and Bill groans at the sharp pull of his hair that gets more and more harsh as his thrusts do. Need coils in Stan’s belly like hot coal, pooling in his gut like a flood of dark and warm desire. He wraps a hand around his erection and in two pumps Stan’s coming in between them with shaky limbs, dropping the shirt from his teeth and jaw going slack again.

“You’re beautiful,” Bill breathes out, kissing his temple and watching the love of his life fall apart in front of him. Bill doesn’t last much longer, and bites his release into Stan’s shoulder as Stan tightens around him, pulsing Bill’s orgasm out.

They stay like that, close, panting softly, as Bill places small kisses along the teeth marks and bruises that riddle Stan’s body. Trembling fingers coax through Bill’s hair, and when Bill kisses him, he smiles into the kiss.

“Your parents probably heard us.”

“Move in wuh-with me.” Bill breathes out, propping himself on his elbow and stroking Stan’s side.

“What about Eddie?”

“He and Richie can room together.”

“I think that’s just the sex talking, Bill.”

“That’s what I was thinking, actually—” Bill starts, and Stan snorts, leaning into his chest and watching him with a skeptical brow. “But nuh-now that I’ve cum— it’s the strangest thing— It’s like— I wuh-want to spend more time with you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me— maybe I’m sick or something.”

Stan laughs, and flicks his temple. “I hate you.”

Bill kisses his forehead, before peeling away and grabbing his shirt, wiping them both off. Stan makes a face, but smiles anyway, and he kisses Bill’s jawline when Bill returns to the warm of the bed.

"My ass hurts." Stan grumbles, curling around him.

"So, you’ll move in wuh-with me?” Bill asks, ignoring Stan’s comment and instead slipping a hand around his waist.

“I have OCD,” Stan tells him, “and I get these nightmares. I’m a workaholic. I get sad sometimes. I don’t like crowds.”

“I know.” Bill says.

“There will be really bad days. Really, really bad. Still want me?”

“Fuh-for a while now, yeah.” Bill yawns. “Have I not been clear? What else do I have to do? I already put my dick inside of you, what else duh-do I have to do?”

“You’re awfully cocky post-coitus.”

Bill nods, swiping his hand down to pinch at Stan’s ass playfully.

Stan narrows his eyes and retaliates by biting the tip of Bill’s nose. Bill laughs, but after they settle down, Stan looks into Bill’s eyes seriously. “Are you sure?” he asks hesitantly.

“Of course.”

“Okay— then I will.” He smiles, “We should probably drive back though.” Stan says, and Bill frowns but nods, standing up and tossing him his clothes.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

The word  _ home _ makes Stan’s heart swell, but it also makes him feels very, very small. His eyes find Bill’s in the mirror— Bill watches him like he’s the moon, with such love and adoration, and suddenly Stan doesn’t feel so small anymore. Stan takes Bill’s hand and squeezes it as they walk down the driveway.

Bill squeezes back, before Stan slips into the driver’s seat, and they go home.

 

On the way home, as he drives, Stan thinks. He decides that life is an ocean. It’s dark, and wet sometimes, and scary, and there are things that lurk and things. It can be overwhelming to think about, and if you think too much about the ocean, you just might drown in it. But, in the same way, maybe Bill is the bottom of the ocean. It’s a dangerous journey, and Stan might have had some doubts along the way, but now that he’s found the treasure that awaited him, Stan wouldn’t trade that for the world. And maybe— Stan thinks back to when he first met Bill, in their freshman year, and then thinks about when he first met the real Bill, through Georgie that fateful day in October— maybe Georgie is the anchor that helped him to Bill. Stan thinks about that, and smiles.

“What’s got you so smiley, Uris?” Bill asks.

“You,” 

“God, that’s so fuh-fucking cliche.” Bill rolls his eyes.

“You make me want to do cliche things, Denbrough.” Stan shrugs, and quickly leans over to kiss Bill’s cheek during a red light.

Bill’s cheeks turn pink, and he mumbles something about Stan being a sap, but Stan decides that he doesn’t mind being cliche— after all, each cliche just stands to show how lucky he is to even have Bill, to have someone to take late night drives with. Someone to sing Disney’s greatest hits with, and someone who will sing the wrong words and will deny it entirely. It’s cliche, really, but it’s Stanley’s cliche, and that’s something he wouldn’t give up for the whole world.

  
  



End file.
